


One Soul

by iL0Vsuperman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Assassination, Brainwashing, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Character Death, F/M, Feels, Fighting, First Time, Growing Up Together, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Memory Loss, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pretty much every Archive Warning will be used, Reconciliation, Sexual Content, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates, Stucky - Freeform, Torture, Violence, World War II, Young Love, etc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 58,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iL0Vsuperman/pseuds/iL0Vsuperman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What constitutes a soul mate? Is it a perfect biological match which will create the best offspring? Or is it the deepest of connections that could be made at a personal level? Is there even a soul, and having only one other that will connect with it?</p><p>And how strong is the bond? Can it withstand pain, horror, torture, death, and worse evils? Can soul mates still be soul mates when one does not remember the other? Can they still be soul mates after physically and emotionally hurting each other? Will a bond survive centuries? </p><p>Or will it crumble under the pressures of time and the horrors it provides?</p><p>Steve and Bucky always believed they shared one soul, that what they initially possessed were only halves of one greater soul. Yet that belief will be tested as each will hurt each other and wonder: …Are we even soul mates anymore?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This AU takes place starting when Steve and Bucky were children and goes through the major milestones of their lives from their first meeting, to their falling in love, World War two and the losses it entailed, and the events of the 21st century where both men were supposed to be dead but had both miraculously survived. It is of love, hate, sorrow, and what it means to share your soul with another.
> 
> All Archive Warnings will apply (in this chapter there is only the underage tags but nothing occurs between children. It is only between two consenting teenagers).

Steve had been born in the middle of the Great Depression to a single mother. His father had died months prior to his birth and his mother had barely survived the loss of her mate. He was also the sole provider for their household so she had been scraping pennies to get by because no one was hiring and, even if they were, they’d never hire a pregnant woman.

There was never a moment in his life when he or Ma were not cold or hungry. Yet, despite being poor, Steve, like everyone else born in the U.S. was given a soul implant as was his right as an American citizen “to pursue happiness.”

His soul implant was just like everyone else’s. It was a thin metal plate that had been sealed into his left arm and it had a digital readout with years, months, days, minutes, and seconds on it. When Steve’s soul mate implant was applied the day after he was born, it was discovered that he was one of the lucky few who would meet their soul mate at a young age. In Steve’s case, the implant estimated he was going to be a little over eight-years-old.

As a young child growing up with this knowledge, Steve never thought much about it. The concept of a soul mate was too vast for his young mind to understand and he did not realize how lucky he was, since many are only able to search and find their soul mate when they are adults. Soul mates rarely met so young.

When he was a little older and nearing the day he would meet his soul mate, Ma explained that those who met at a young age were especially lucky because they became the best of friends. For a sickly boy that kids avoided, this meant the world to Steve. After that he did not see the countdown on his arm as the countdown to meet the mysterious soul mate…but to meet his best friend, a relationship he never before possessed and desperately wanted…

When the day in question arrived, Ma made him wear his Sunday best and slicked back his hair with some pungent oil that had belonged to his late father. She dragged him to church, hoping he would meet a nice Christian girl.

They were running late. The strong smell of the hair oil had irritated Steve’s lungs and it made him have an asthma attack. They were late and had to take a shortcut through an alley to get to the church on time.

He looked down at the countdown on his arm and blanched. Less than a minute to go.

The church was only a block away. If they ran, they could get there on time. Steve may arrive gasping for air but he would arrive in time for his soul mate! He had heard horror stories of soul mates never getting to meet because they were lost in too large of a crowd or one died right before the fateful meeting. Steve did not want to be a part of _those_ statistics!

Partway down the alley, however, in an alcove meant for trash bins, they came across upturned metal bins, trash strewed everywhere, and a group of boys in a fight.

“Hey!” Steve’s mother yelled indignantly. “ _Stop_! Get off him!” She charged the boys, swinging her purse as she did. Steve followed her yelling at the bullies as he ran away. The boys scattered and ran all the faster when she started whacking them with her purse. “Good for nothing little jerks–!” Ma muttered under her breath.

Steve chased them a little further down the alley and they yelled insults at him as they escaped. His chest burned from the exertion but he made sure to glare after them, he hated bullies with a passion. They were mean people who always picked on others for no reason other than because they were weaker than them in one way or another. It wasn’t right.

Behind him he heard Ma ask someone, “Are you alright?”

“Freakin’ bullies,” he heard a boy hiss, voicing Steve’s own internal cursing. Steve turned at the sound of his voice, still wheezing slightly from the run, but he could not see the boy other than his shoed foot sticking out from behind the alcove. “They were jealous and wanted to stop me from…” He trailed to a stop and the boy’s voice was filled with horror as he gasped, “Oh no, my timer’s about to go…”

Steve glanced down at his and felt his heart leap in his throat. _5 seconds…_

“Four,” Steve counted with a squeak. No, no, no… He could feel himself growing faint. This couldn't be happening. His wheezing started to pick up again.

“Three,” the boy replied and his mother’s shoulders tensed. Steve's breath was released in a shocked hiss.

“Two,” Steve stated, stepping up to the alcove with his heart in his throat.

“One,” the boy on the ground replied breathlessly as Steve rounded the corner.

The boy grinned ecstatically up at Steve and their counters turned off with a light ding as their eyes made contact. He looked Steve’s age but was larger than him which was typical since Steve was smaller than most kids his age. He was dirty from being kicked around in trash and had a bloody lip. His blue eyes were a shade darker than Steve’s and had short, dark brown hair.

“I’m Steve. Steven Grant Rogers,” Steve whispered hoarsely. This was him. This was his soul mate, his fabled best friend.

The boy scrambled to his feet and held out his hand. Steve grabbed it and the boy shook it vigorously as he stated, “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, friends call me Bucky!”

“Bucky,” Steve reiterated and he did not think it was possible but Bucky’s grin grew larger. Steve’s smile mirrored Bucky’s and grew bigger too.

Their counters both dinged a second time upon their contact, confirming what they both already knew. They had found their soul mate.

Steve could no longer hold back his excitement and laughed as he enveloped Bucky in a hug. Bucky whooped and picked Steve off the ground, spinning him as they laughed together jubilantly.

\---

For as long as he could remember, Bucky never had anything to call his own. Being an orphan, he had no home or family and even the clothes on his back weren't his. As soon as he found out what the ticker on his arm meant, he had been counting down the days to meet his fabled soul mate. His soul mate would be the first thing Bucky alone would have. Better yet, his mate would be his home and family all rolled into one perfect package.

So when Bucky finally met him, Steve was instantly something precious to him.

Bucky was too young to understand that his and Steve’s match was unusual and controversial. All that mattered to Bucky was that Steve, may have been a punk, but he was Bucky’s punk. Later in life, he would learn that it was reported that less than four percent of soul mate matches were made with people of the same sex.

The secrets behind the technology itself was a highly guarded secret. The company that produced the implants was one of the strongest in the world and were tightlipped about it. The soul implants brought about the Industrial Revolution when they first appeared and, despite being around for so long, none of the technologies secrets was known to the general public. Many religious organizations claimed it to be a gift from their god or gods and the S.I. Organization did not confirm or deny their statements (a century later it will come to light that certain Norse Gods had a hand in creating the soul implant but that’s another story…).

Since the invention of the soul implant, the company accounted it with the ancient Greek belief, that everyone was born with only a partial soul and that your soul could only be whole with your mate’s other half. The implant was one's tool to finding the other half of your soul.

However, it was the popular opinion that the technology of the soul mate implant looked for the best biological match to produce the best offspring. The fact that it also connected one to his or her best emotional match usually came second or was not factored at all by most extremist groups. Most felt that those who were matched with the same sex were defective and their genes were not meant to be passed on.

Sarah Rogers, on the other hand, thought it all silly nonsense. Bucky knew she was shocked at first and apprehensive because she knew Steve and Bucky were in for the long haul. She could have denied Steve from seeing Bucky again, like most would have done in her situation. Instead, she welcomed Bucky into their lives with open arms. Bucky loved the woman instantly. She remind him of his late mother’s spunk. In fact, on the same day he met Steve, Steve’s mother found out that Bucky was an orphan, and without a second thought, she opened her house to him. It only added to the already happiest days of Bucky’s life when she gave Bucky their spare bedroom. He had always wished for a family and he could not have imagined one better than the Rogers.

Bucky was grateful for the bedroom but only used the room his first night. After that, he slipped into Steve’s room every night since and they stayed up trading ghost stories and finding shapes of amazing creatures in the stars outside Steve’s window before falling asleep together in Steve’s bed. Sarah protested at first, stating it improper but, when winter came, Bucky’s body heat was the only thing that kept the worst of cold sickness at bay in Steve’s fragile body and she relented.

They always slept wrapped in each other’s arms, finding no fault in it. They were children and the adult world of attraction and sex meant nothing to either of them.

Bucky found that they were like puzzle pieces meant to be put together and once slotted together they need not find any other match. Bucky and Steve were meant for each other and were quickly unable to sleep without the other there.

Being together just felt _right_.

Not long after Bucky moved in, Sarah enrolled Bucky into Steve’s school. Bucky had been taught by the nuns at the orphanage but Sarah reasoned that since he was living with the Rogers he was going to be taught by the New York school system just like Steve. She wanted him to get a “proper education.” He tried to get out of it saying he was not smart enough but she would hear none of it. It secretly made Bucky feel proud. No adult had ever believed in him like Sarah did.

Bucky had been a rebel with the nuns and soon had gained a similar reputation at the Brooklyn school. The school had ridiculous rules and a ridiculous amount of homework. Even with Steve sharing the desk with him, sitting in one of those hard wooden chairs, with solid straight backs, for any more than an hour was too much for him. At least the nuns provided comfortable chairs. The chairs and desks at the school were all connected in horribly restricting rows and, to top it all off, the classrooms were overcrowded thanks to several schools in the city being shut down.

Bucky ditched class, talked back to teachers, and fooled around with the other delinquents. The other students thought him akin to a wild animal.

The teachers quickly learned the best way to control Bucky was through Steve. They did not know of their soul mate bound but they knew Bucky to be a ward of Steve’s mother and that Steve was his best friend. One word from Steve, and Bucky fell right into line.

He could never deny Steve anything, especially when he gave him _the_ _look_. The teachers did not know if they should respect Steve or be wary...

Needless to say, he and Steve clicked right away. They had the same likes, loved to play the same games, read the same 10 cent comics, listened to the same radio broadcasts, hated bullies, adored all of Bing Crosby’s music, and, most importantly to boys their age, they were _both_ Brooklyn Dodgers fans.

Though, Steve did drain Bucky when it came to bullies. The little guy felt the need to stand up to every wrongdoer he came across and that meant Bucky had to step in and help Steve out. Steve’s pride in standing up for the right thing was endearing but seeing it in action was _exhausting_.

Steve was also an outcast like Bucky because he was sickly. What Bucky loved most about Steve was his attitude about his sickness. In the orphanage, he had seen so many let their sicknesses drag them down but Steve wore it proudly, like a badge of honor. He never let it hinder him.

Though, there were days Steve’s sickness was too much for him to handle and he became bedridden.

Bucky did not know true fear until he learned of the fear of losing Steve. Those horrible days he stayed close to Steve’s side and barely slept in favor of helping him. He measured every breath, treasured every moment of consciousness, and thanked God every time Steve found the strength to smile at him.

Ultimately, their childhood was like something out of a fantasy. Steve’s mother jokingly called them a pair of shoes, one was never without the other. They shared many adventures, enacted scenes from their favorite comics, stood up to bullies, shared candy from the corner store, lived the same lives, and breathed the same air.

Steve was everything Bucky had wanted and more.

\---

When they turned fifteen, they took a required sex-ed class. As the rest of the class suppressed giggles or embarrassed shuffling, Steve sat rigidly in his chair as he felt Bucky’s eyes on him throughout the lecture on soul mates.

Steve kept his gaze firmly locked on the teacher at the blackboard but Bucky’s attention made him feel…weird. His abdomen twisted strangely and he felt a strange flush creep up the back of his neck and stain his cheeks, especially when the teacher went over the strong sexual attraction held between soul mates. Suddenly, Steve felt awkward sitting so close to his friend because, at that moment, he was just realizing Bucky and him were what the teacher was describing. They were soul mates and everybody knows soul mates love each other and not just emotionally but physically as well.

Why hadn't he ever thought of this before? Steve gulped and wondered when he started to want it.

They shared the same desk and Bucky’s hip leaned into Steve’s. Steve became acutely aware of the heat coming off Bucky’s body. Was he always so warm? He wanted to lean into him more but was afraid of the contact. How would Bucky react? Especially right now as the teacher was talking about soul mates and sex?

The teacher stated that soul mates ended up as romantic couples 99.98% of the time. Were he and Bucky going to get together like that? Was that what these new _feelings_ were?... Did Bucky want this too?

His flush grew deeper as he imagined kissing Bucky like the newly married couple that had moved in next door. He gulped heavily and wet his lips as he imagined Bucky’s lips on his. Steve definitely would not mind trying. The flush grew and he boldly glanced slyly at Bucky. Yet, his mate had finally looked away and was frowning at the teacher.

Like Steve, Bucky was wearing some faded down clothes Steve’s Ma had gotten from the Salvation Army. His hair was short but scruffy and he had the shadow of a black eye he had gotten from a fight he followed Steve into. Yet despite it all, Bucky was handsome. Steve always watched Bucky, even before he realized these strange new feelings. Bucky was his favorite subject to draw but maybe there had always been more to it…

Steve currently found himself becoming enchanted by Bucky’s dark blue eyes and, if he could, he would stare them for hours. How did he never notice their depth before?

Their childhood had dwindled to an end but they still remained the best of friends. Other kids their age started dating or looking for their soul mates but he and Bucky were so used to being just friends that it never crossed his mind that they could be more but now Steve wanted more.

Their teacher went on to describing the importance of soul mates producing children and Steve felt a sad twinge in his heart and he looked down at their desk. Even if he and Bucky did end up together they could never have kids…

“What about the soul mates who are bound to someone of the same gender?” Bucky asked, loud enough to stifle the teacher.

Steve blanched and turned to Bucky. He was leaning back into the wooden chair with his long legs stretched out into the walkway. His arms were crossed over his chest and an angry frown was marring his face.

“Those mates obviously cannot produce offspring,” their teacher replied dryly. “Luckily, there are not many of them out there. _Imagine the state of the American household if there were!_ Those kinds of people are mated with people of the same sex for a reason! They are unnatural and perverse. Their soul implants can tell their genes are dangerous and if passed on they obviously spell destruction for their offspring.”

Steve felt himself shrink as the teacher’s words sunk in. With all Steve’s ailments…was that why he was paired with Bucky? He suddenly felt guilty. Bucky was stuck with someone defective whereas Bucky was fine. He should have ended up with a better match…

“ _Fuck_ _that_ ,” Bucky angrily retorted, forcing all of Steve’s warring thoughts to a screeching halt. Steve, all the other students, and the teacher regarded Bucky with shocked expressions.

“G-Go to the principal! Right now!” Their teacher gasped, “That kind of language is unacceptable, young man!”

Bucky bared his teeth and shot to his feet, knocking over the inkwell in their desk as he did. Black ink stained the desk and splashed onto the floor. Steve made no moves to halt the ink’s progress and he lightly grasped Bucky’s hand. Bucky looked down at Steve with a torn expression and gently pulled his hand out of his. Bucky glared at the teacher and quoted, “’ _They’re_ _perverse_?!’ You and this class are perverse!”

“Bucky!” Steve gasped, half rising out of the chair.

“Detention!” The teacher hissed, pointing at Bucky.

“You’re a crackpot of a teacher you know that?” Bucky growled, “You’re wrong about us!” Bucky stormed out of the room, slamming the door after him.

Several beats of silence passed, in which, their teacher’s face grew impossibly redder.

“Us?” Someone whispered behind Steve, catching what Bucky had said, and Steve flinched. In seconds, everything made sense: Why his mother wanted them to keep it a secret and the implants hidden; and why he never heard of another pair of soul mates like him and Bucky.

People did not understand them.

They thought they were unnatural and perverted…

Steve took a calming breath and bravely stood up as straight as he could.

He met the teacher’s glare with a steady stare and said, “I am sorry for Bucky’s profanity but my soul mate is right. You are wrong about us.” The teacher’s jaw dropped and the entire classroom fell strangely silent but Steve was not brave enough to meet his peers’ judgmental stares. He knew he and Bucky were going to lose some friendships over this. Steve ducked his head and murmured, “Excuse me, I need to check on him.”

He tried to appear calm as he left but the level of stares on him made him nervous and he was practically running by the time he reached the door.

He found Bucky leaning into his fists against the wall on the other end of the hall. His shoulders were tense and he was breathing shallowly. His head was ducked so low that Steve could not see it.

“Bucky?” Steve called out to him lightly. Bucky tensed then stood up straight swiftly as he turned to him.

“Stevie!” He gasped and quickly closed the distance between them. He grasped Steve’s hands and whispered, “Steve, that guy is a knucklehead! He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!”

“I know,” Steve whispered, diverting his eyes shamefully as he remembered how damaged he was.

Bucky grabbed the sides of his face and made him look at him. He hissed, “None of it is true! We are not per-perverts! They are! The soul implants matched us together for a reason! _You’re my best friend!_ I would not trade you for anything! Not for kids, a pretty dame, or all the money in the world! I love you!” Bucky pulled Steve’s head toward him and smashed his lips against Steve’s. Steve melted into his hold but Bucky pulled back as he repeated, “I love you and I don’t care if we can’t have any kids. All I need is you! I—.” Bucky paled and pulled away from him. He murmured, “I mean…well…I-I love you… And... do you too? ”

Steve clearly read Bucky’s mortification. He probably didn’t mean to confess all of that at once. Steve smiled reassuringly at him and dug his fingers into the flesh of Bucky’s arms. Steve whispered, “I only need you too. I-I think I love you too, Buck.”

Bucky blinked a few times then surged down on him and kissed him again, his teeth were biting painfully into his lips. Steve did not notice the pain because, at that moment, his heart soared and rose so high it threatened to break free of the confines of his chest.

Bucky loved him. Bucky was kissing him. Nothing was more important than these two facts.

From then on, he and Bucky no longer hid.

They walked to school together hand-in-hand and kissed in public. They underwent hate, name-calling, and other abuses but they endured it bravely because they had each other. They loved each other and no matter what anyone said they would continue to do so. They shared the same soul and _nothing_ would change that.

They used to share every single class but once it got out that they were soul mates the school thought it best they be separated because it was “inappropriate.” Steve and Bucky argued against it. In the school charter, it stated if any of their pupils were soul mates they could attend the same classes together since soul mates worked better together. In fact, there was a pair of older students who were soul mates who shared all their classes. If they could do it then why not them too?

The school ignored their requests and Steve and Bucky could only see each other at lunch. It was torturous and they quickly began to ditch class regularly, even if it was only for a moment to exchange a quick kiss or a passing touch in the hallway.

The school sent officials to their apartment and they told Ma to suggest counseling and perhaps sending one of them to another school. But she stood bravely by their side and denied the school all its suggestions.

In the end, Steve and Bucky found themselves being sent to detention more often and their work being graded more harshly. They also got suspended a few times for talking back to teachers who were mouthing off about them. They never got suspended together which they chalked up to a conspiracy to keep them apart.

The bullies they stood up to on the behalf of others now turned their gazes on them and seemed to try to make every living moment of their lives a living hell: Taunts in the hallways or on the way home, threatening messages left in their lockers or carved into their desk, old food and spitballs being thrown at them, and the countless times he and Bucky or either of them alone were shoved into a secluded spot and attacked.

Steve and Bucky learned how to fight dirty quick and most days they may have come home with a black eye or two but the other guys were always left in a worse condition.

His Ma also received verbal abuse for having boys that were soul mates under her roof but she weathered it all with her chin held high and a chiding retort quick to tongue.

Despite everything, Steve knew everything was going to be alright in the end because, even if he had nothing, he would have Bucky, and that was all that mattered.

Some nights he and Bucky would lie on the roof of their apartment and talk about getting away from their tiny Brooklyn neighborhood and travel the world.

“I would follow you anywhere,” Bucky whispered in a promise.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Steve teased. Deep down in his heart, he knew that Bucky would never break that promise.

No matter what they faced, they were going to be together, forever.

\---

Bucky had wanted Steve for a long time, longer than Steve probably realized. He had been watching Steve long before the sex-ed class and his body began reacting to his presence in alarming ways.

Since they publicly came out as soul mates, Bucky spent countless nights watching his soul mate sleep, imagining Steve’s thin fingers digging into his flesh as Bucky made him come or seeing his blond hair slicked back with sweat as both of them humped and moaned simultaneously deep into the night… It always left him with a painful erection but the bliss of coming to the imaginings was worth it.

He never pushed Steve for sex and let him set the pace for their relationship. Yet once they got kissing figured out it did not take long for sex to factor into the equation, especially since they still shared a bed and fell asleep tangled around each other.

The morning it finally happened Bucky had woken with his usual morning wood. He had dreamed of being with Steve again and he planned to use that dream to masturbate to.

He glanced down at his soul mate and saw Steve looked incredible as always. His long lashes were brushed over his pink cheeks and his lush lips were parted as he breathed lightly. His usually uniform hairstyle was delightfully mussed by sleep and glowed under the morning light.

Bucky ghosted a light kiss on Steve’s cheekbone then slipped out of Steve’s hold with a rueful smile at his soul mate. Steve managed to steal Bucky’s breath away without even trying.

Steve woke and, without opening his eyes, reached toward him, sleepily murmuring, “Don’t go, it’s cold.” His breath frosted on his last word, attesting to the cold of that winter morning.

Bucky could not deny him, especially when it was so cold, and returned to Steve’s side. He gathered Steve to his chest but kept his hips away with the telltale budge.

Steve grumbled something unintelligible with a hint of annoyance and shifted his hips into Bucky’s. Bucky bit down sharply on his lip and stifled a moan as Steve’s behind nestled his hardened cock.

Steve froze, then slowly rubbed his ass back into Bucky, caressing his cock between Steve’s warm, soft cheeks. Bucky groaned heartily and kissed the back of his neck sloppily. Steve began to rhythmically shift his hips into Bucky and pant shallowly.

Bucky pulled down the neck of Steve’s sleep shirt and nibbled on the flesh beneath. His soul mate groaned and Bucky’s cock throbbed at the sound. He gasped into Steve’s ear, “I want you. I want all of you, Stevie.”

Steve moaned in agreement and turned his head and met Bucky’s lips with his own. One hand cupped Steve’s face to keep him in the kiss and the other traveled down Steve’s chest, undoing the buttons to his pajamas as he went. When his thin chest was exposed, Bucky’s hand went lower and easily slid past the band of Steve’s pajamas. He cupped Steve’s erection, loving the feel of it, and Steve rutted into his hold.

“ _Oh_ , _Buck_ ,” Steve moaned heatedly and he rubbed himself into Bucky’s hand and his backend onto Bucky’s cock. Steve reached behind him and cupped Bucky’s ass, drawing him closer. Steve gasped, “I want you, too. God, I want you so much.”

Bucky pushed himself up and hovered over Steve. He continued to pump Steve’s erection and Steve fell onto his back to better accommodate Bucky’s hold. Steve’s moans were stringed together in a beautiful chorus and he gazed up at Bucky with such adoring eyes that Bucky felt his arms tremble from their effect. When Steve turned onto his back, his pajama top partially covered his chest so Bucky reached down with his free hand and exposed Steve’s heaving chest. He ran his hand down his tiny torso and Steve breathing escalated.

Steve’s entire body was flush and a fine coat of sweat was beading against his skin. He stared at Bucky with glassed over eyes and his mouth was slack as he panted for breath.

Bucky himself was also beginning to sweat just as profusely and some of the loose hair on his forehead was starting to stick to his skin.

Steve grabbed his hand just as it reached his hip and dragged it back up to his mouth. He kissed the palm of Bucky’s hand then nibbled on it and dragged his lips against his skin. Bucky increased his pace on pumping Steve’s cock and leaned in to kiss Steve. His thumb slid into Steve’s mouth to push it open and his tongue was quick to accompany it.

Steve came with a hearty groan into his hand and Bucky smothered the sound with his mouth. Steve’s moan coated Bucky’s throat with his hot and damp breath. He looked so sinuous, _so_ _delicious_ , Bucky could not wait to see him come.

Steve’s hands balled into fists in Bucky’s shirt and he gasped, “Buck, I – Buck, I –!”

He came with the breath amassing in his throat. He went slack beneath Bucky and shook as the last of his ejaculate was spent.

Steve fell back into bed with a chuckling gasp. A flush colored Steve’s cheeks and Bucky kissed his cheeks, his slack lips, and his hooded, glassy eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky whispered against his damp skin.

Once Steve caught his breath, he scrambled to unbutton Bucky’s shirt. Steve’s fingers fumbled and it was distracting enough that Bucky discontinued worshiping his face with his kisses. Bucky pulled back with an aspirated groan. He was torn by getting as naked as his soul mate or to keep kissing him.

He helped Steve unbutton his shirt and as soon as his chest was exposed Steve ran his hands over Bucky’s chest and he whispered, “I love you…”

Bucky ran his hand through Steve’s soft hair and treasured that moment. Steve’s eyes were warm and were so sincere that they were on the verge of tears. He cupped Steve’s face and murmured, “I love you too.”

They ended up stripping each other and exploring every inch of each other’s bodies with their eyes, fingertips, lips, and even a little bit with their tongues. They jacked each other off which turned into the most erotic thing of Bucky’s life, his prior dreams could not compare. He was going to dream of the face Steve made as he came and would yearn for the sensation of his mate’s lithe hands around his cock.

They had the vaguest notions about sex and even less so what it was supposed to be like between men. But with time, they ecstatically experimented and eventually figured out how everything worked.

Eventually, they made love nightly, filling their bedroom with the breathless sounds of their muffled gasps and the sharp smell of their sweat, semen, and Vaseline lubricant. Steve’s mother had to know what was happening but she made no comment about it. The only change they noticed was her refusal to clean their bed sheets anymore which left Steve blushing and gave Bucky ammunition to tease him about the stains.

As they grew older, so did their passion. It was not enough to have each other every night, they had to have more. He and Steve would skip class just to make out in the back of the library or in an empty classroom. When they got home and if Sarah was not home yet they would make love being as loud as they couldn’t be when she was present in the tiny apartment. They looked for excuses to touch each other, kiss each other, or simply be around each other and it still would not be enough.

\---

At eighteen, Bucky filled out his lanky form handsomely and round, strong muscles grew in. He got a side job at the docks and lost his baby fat, revealing a strong jaw that was just beginning to stubble. At seventeen-going-on-eighteen, Steve remained thin and even though he gained some height, it was nowhere near the amount Bucky gained. He remained weightless as a child and it frustrated him. It was a constant reminder that he was more of a burden than help for his Ma and Bucky.

Steve woke one morning to Bucky picking him up, maneuvering him to a sitting position on his lap. Steve stared beadily down at his lover, laying stretched out beneath him with a wily grin. Bucky reached up and cupped his jaw. Bucky pulled him down for a kiss and he willingly complied.

“I feel as light as a feather,” Steve grumbled sleepily and swayed slightly from drowsy fatigue. Once parallel, Steve collapsed onto Bucky’s chest and lifted his head to peer at Bucky.

“What’s so bad about that?” Bucky murmured into his lips. Steve let Bucky lazily kiss him for a few moments before replying.

“You’re a man now. I don’t feel like one,” Steve murmured dejectedly.

Bucky pushed his hips into Steve’s and hummed approvingly as he felt Steve’s growing erection. He whispered, “You certainly feel man enough for me.”

“You know what I mean,” Steve grumbled.

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky growled affectionately, flipping them over and throwing Steve onto the mattress. Steve bounced up and Bucky landed on top of him. “The size of the body does not make the man.” Bucky placed his hand on Steve’s chest and whispered, “It’s the heart that matters and you have the biggest heart of the bunch, Steve.”

“Yours is bigger,” Steve murmured, tracing his fingers were Bucky’s heart drummed against his chest.

Bucky clasped Steve’s hand against his chest and whispered, “Nah, it’s only big enough to hold you…with a little space left over for your mom…and Sister Agnes…and-.”

“And everyone you hold dear, which is a lot of people,” Steve replied sweetly, kissing the tip of Bucky’s nose.

Bucky grinned and whispered, “You will always hold the biggest portion.”

“I know,” Steve replied, reaching up to caress the side of his face.

“It does not change the fact that you have the bigger heart because you care for _everyone_ ,” Bucky teased him.

“What are you talking about?” Steve chuckled, he could not imagine loving anyone more than Bucky.

“Yesterday, you climbed a tree to help a cat,” Bucky stated with a teasing drawl. “And you always help strangers. And even when that lady from the grocer gave us dirty looks you did not bat an eye to help her pick up her groceries when her bag ripped.” He kissed him again but longer and deeper and he dug his fingers into Steve’s shoulders to draw them closer. Bucky pulled back, cupping Steve’s face as he whispered, “You have the biggest heart and I love you so much for it.”

“No matter what, I will love you the most,” Steve murmured, wrapping his arms behind Bucky’s neck.

Steve dropped his head back as Bucky trailed kisses down his throat. One of Bucky’s hands traversed up his chest and the other wrapped around the back of his hip, cupping his ass cheek and sliding his fingers deeper into the cleft of his ass. Steve began to move rhythmically against Bucky and he gasped, “ _Love you_. _Love you so much_.”

It was a Saturday morning so Steve and Bucky took their time and by the time they got to the kitchen it was almost the afternoon.

“Took you boys long enough,” Ma grumbled from the sink. She suddenly coughed and brought her fist up to her mouth to stifle it.

Steve flushed lightly and said, “Sorry, Ma.” He came up behind her and leaned against the counter. He said, “Also, good morning, do you need help with that? ...And are you feeling alright?”

Ma smiled at him and replied, “Good morning to you too and, no, I don’t need help and I am fine. You and Bucky make yourselves breakfast.”

“Sure,” Steve said and spared her a kiss on the cheek drawing another smile to her face.

“Toast?” Bucky asked, already opening the bread box.

“Toast,” Steve agreed. He stepped next to Bucky and leaned into his side as he removed the bread. He plucked out a single slice for Steve and two for himself. Steve plugged in the ancient toaster and Bucky slid a slice into the single slot. The thing was made in the early 30s, maybe even the late 20s. Whatever the year, Bucky pushed down the leaver and the toaster began to buzz as it heated up. The toaster was half the size of the icebox and buzzed loudly. It usually burnt the toast but they were used to it.

“What do you two have planned for today?” Ma asked as Steve grabbed two plates for himself and Bucky out of the cabinet.

Steve and Bucky exchanged glances then both shrugged.

“Nothing,” Bucky said and Steve lay the plates next to the metal toaster, keeping them far enough away so they would not have to touch the hot metal of the toaster. Their wooden counter would have caught on fire years ago if the toaster did not stand on four legs.

“Maybe homework,” Steve suggested to which Bucky scoffed.

“How about you two come with me to the market and help this old lady carry home the groceries,” she suggested.

Steve smirked and retorted, “We’ll be glad to go and you’re not old, _Ma_.”

She smiled sadly over her shoulder and said, “You would not believe how old I feel some days, just look at you two. It feels like the day you two met was just yesterday. When did the both of you grow up?”

The toast snapped up, the center nicely browned and the crust blackened, and Bucky picked it out and slid another slice in. He tossed the toast on the plate and pushed it toward Steve. To Ma, Bucky replied, “What are you talking about? We never grew up!” She shook her head and chuckled.

Steve went to the icebox that stood as high as his chest and unlatched the wooden door. He pulled out the homemade blackberry jelly his mother had made last week and brought it over to the toast. Bucky held a knife out for him with a knowing smirk. They moved around each other and the kitchen with practiced ease. They had done this many times.

Steve took the knife and opened the jelly. The sweet smell of blackberries instantly filled the air around him and he plunged the knife into the half-filled jar. By the time he had finished spreading the jelly on the first piece, the second one popped out of the toaster and he began the process over again after Bucky tossed the second one on the other plate and slide the final slice into the toaster.

They did not wait for the third one to finish and once Steve was done with the second, they both dug in. They leaned against the counter and into each other’s sides and began eating.

“What are we going to get at the market?” Steve asked after his first bite.

His Ma turned away from the sink, rubbing her throat, and murmured, “Just the usual. I have an extra nickel for something more, so you two be sure to keep an eye out for something sweet!”

Steve and Bucky exchanged excited glances. Both were thinking the same thing: caramel, roasted almonds.

Ma grinned upon seeing their excitement and covered her mouth as she coughed again, this time more violently. Steve narrowed his eyes and asked, “Ma, are you sure you are alright?”

She always had a cough, and like Steve, it always grew worse during the winter. But it was spring and it was getting warmer. She had been coughing progressively more since winter.

“Is that blood?”

Bucky’s question was so hushed that it took Steve a moment to comprehend his words. He did not notice the small speck of blood until Bucky drew attention to it. Ma hid her hands behind her instantly and she looked down guiltily.

Steve put down his toast and stepped up to his Ma, pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket as he did. He stepped up to her and carefully wiped the bit of blood off the bottom of her pale pink lip. The red stained the white cloth and spread through the fibers as quickly water soaks into a dry towel. She looked surprised by the blood then dropped her hands to her sides, on her palms was more blood.

“Ma?”

“I was going to tell both of you when you two graduated,” she whispered.

“Wha—?” Bucky asked stepping beside Steve.

She reached out to both of them and they mutely stepped into her hold. She hugged them tightly and her body shook as she began to cry. Steve gently held his Ma and listened to her silent sobs with his breaths growing shallower and more ragged with each passing second.

After that day, blackberries tasted like ash in his mouth.

Two months later, a few months before school ended, Sarah Rogers died.

Steve held onto Bucky the entire day of the funeral. If he let go, he feared he might totally collapse into himself and never walk again.

He felt like a ghost, moving through the motions of the funeral without truly being there. When they returned home, Steve went to his Ma’s room and lay on her bed. It still smelt like her and he could almost pretend she was still there. Bucky lay behind him, with an arm tucked around his waist.

He was an orphan now, just like Bucky. They only had each other for a support in a world that thought them subhuman. His Ma had acted as a buffer to that world and without her love and support he knew it was going to be ten times worse.

The year was 1938 and the same year Steve lost his mother was the year TIME Magazine named Adolf Hitler, Man of the year.

The beginning of World War II was only one year away.

The United States’ involvement would be in another three years…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I mess up on any of the historical accounts please let me know! 
> 
> I will be updating this fic once a week along with my stony fic. Thank you for reading! :3
> 
> To be continued in Chapter 2: The Separations


	2. The Separations

They stayed at his Ma’s apartment until the rent was due three months after her death then they moved to a smaller apartment in a neighborhood poorer than the one they had resided in with his mom. Steve mourned her passing as did Bucky but together they helped each other heal.

They graduated high school, knowing his Ma would want them to but were disallowed to walk in the ceremony.

Bucky got a job working at the docks full-time. Steve wanted to get a job too but Bucky was adamantly against it. He wanted at least one of them to get an education. It started a huge fight between them which was absolutely ridiculous: Bucky saying he was not good enough to go to college and Steve retorting he was in an endless cycle.

Steve had always wanted to get a career in art and he had shared this dream with Bucky. Yet it had died with his Ma. He could no longer dream. He had to face reality and get a real job like Bucky. But Bucky made it his mission to not let Steve forgo his dreams. Steve loved and hated him for it.

After a week of them going back and forth on the matter, Bucky finally sat Steve down and said, “You are going to take what was left of your Ma’s money, go to art school, and turn your doodles into something of worth. Then, once you get a job and make enough money to take care of us, I will quit the docks and be a lazy good for nothing husband, living off your wages,” Bucky concluded with a smirk.

“We can’t get married,” Steve retorted, sharply.

He did not want to fight about school again so he focused on the part of Bucky’s statement that had nothing to do with it. It was against the law for men to marry other men, even ones that were soul mates. His heart clenched painfully at the injustice. He never thought about it before now but he wanted to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Bucky and join him in a union that proclaimed their love.

“We don’t have to be married by the state,” Bucky countered. “Hell, we can marry ourselves…” He reached out and lightly grasped Steve’s hand and whispered, “Will you marry me, Steve?”

Bucky sounded nonchalant but Steve met Bucky’s and saw the seriousness in his gaze. Steve’s mouth became dry and he went still. He stared at Bucky blankly and replayed their conversation through his head. He breathlessly clarified, “You want to marry me?”

Bucky grinned owlishly and said, “Yes, if you’ll have me?”

“I…I, _God_ , yes!” He shot himself out of his chair and into Bucky’s arms. Their long fight was totally forgotten as unabashed joy filled him. He kissed Bucky and gasped, “Yes, Bucky!”

Bucky’s answering grin was so big, for a moment, Steve thought it would split his face in two. His eyes sparkled with the same joy running through Steve. When Steve saw that his happiness and excitement became so overwhelming that he had to kiss Bucky to share it or risk exploding from it.

With his next paycheck, Bucky bought them secondhand rings from a pawnshop. The gold bands were old, scratched up, and tarnished with age and wear. Yet they fit and they symbolized their eternal bond.

When Bucky slid the ring onto his finger, he whispered, “I promise to love you, care for you, and cherish you. I offer you all of my heart, my soul, and my life. You have made me the happiest man in the world and I don’t care how others see us because, to me, we are perfect. We are soul mates. You are my other half. We are meant to be…”

Steve slid Bucky’s ring on his finger and stated, “You are my best friend, the love of my life, my soul mate. You have stood by me during all my bad times…but, more importantly, all the best moments of my life have been with you. _You_ are my future…and—and I would say more if I had known we would be exchanging vows…”

Bucky chuckled and bent down to kiss Steve. When Bucky cupped his cheek and Steve felt the cool metal of his wedding ring, Steve grinned into his husband’s lips and was overjoyed by the fact that he met Bucky and, despite all the odds, was able to stay with him.

**\---**

The years seemed to fly to Bucky. Steve stubbornly went to art school and, after two years of Steve schooling, Bucky working odd jobs, and both of them scrounging for money Steve graduated top of his class. The economy was still suffering from the aftereffects of the depression but Steve soon got an apprenticeship with the cartoonist at a local newspaper. It did not pay much but it was something. With the extra money they no longer had to worry as much about their rent and food.

Europe was at war and, despite the isolationists’ actions, everyday it seemed the United States was getting closer to joining the fight. The recruitment posters had yet to be hung but he could hear whispers from young men, already planning on joining once the inevitable happened.

The U.S. was already sending aide to the Allies and factories were being built to create more war materials. Bucky had gotten a better paying position in one of the factories making bullet shells for semiautomatic rifles. Most of the shells were being sent out overseas to Great Britain and France but a small portion was being put aside for the U.S. military as well.

Steve and Bucky continued to be open about their sexuality and mated status which both isolated them and drew the other outcasts to them. Their neighbors ignored them but some days they would find someone had thrown old eggs at their door or had painted expletives into it. Their landlord was on the verge of throwing them out so they always made sure to clean it up with no fuss. Internally, however, whenever they saw it had happened again, they hurt and raged.

Even though they received mountains of hate, the few people who accepted them made it all worth it. In the large city, there was a small community of same sex soul mates or people who supported them. It was underground and very hush-hush since they were considered immoral yet they were the nicest people Steve and Bucky ever met.

They interacted with that community via secret clubs. They were loud and wild and ruled by alcohol and freedom. It was there Bucky discovered his love for dancing. Steve had two left feet but he came out onto the dance floor with Bucky’s coaxing. He was slowly improving and probably would be a much better dancer if Bucky didn’t give up trying to teach him up until halfway through every song and simply kissed him for the rest of it.

Neither of them voiced an interest in fighting for their country. Fighting bullies in an alley was one thing…fighting in a war was a whole other. Despite the grandeur of the war, they did not think on it much, the war was a world away and they were busy building a life for themselves in the underbelly of Brooklyn.

Even after the attack on Pearl Harbor, both Steve and Bucky avoided the recruitment offices and purposely avoided talking about the war. Bucky personally did not want to fight for a country that restricted his and Steve’s liberties just because of their status as mates. Though they never spoke of it, he knew his husband well enough that Steve must have felt similarly.

But conscription was reinstated at the beginning of the war and every year they pulled more men in with the draft.

Two and a half years into the war, Bucky received his draft notice.

He picked up the mail on his way home from work. He stared at the notice in shock. He never believed – never thought – this couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real.

He was rooted to the spot in front of the mailboxes. A neighbor happened to come in to check his own box. He paused next to Bucky and saw the notice in his hand. He clapped Bucky on the back and said, “Congratulations.”

Bucky looked at him with wide eyes. Congratulations? Where was the celebration in all of this? He was going to be torn away from Steve and forcibly fight for a country that had no love for either of them.

The neighbor left, casting Bucky odd looks and, eventually, Bucky shuffled his way to the stairs and climbed the three flights to their apartment. With every step he took, the letter grew heavier and reality began to set in.

He had been drafted.

Steve was working on a comic strip in the kitchen when Bucky entered the apartment.

“Hello, Sweetheart,” Steve murmured, his eyes not raising from his work as he applied red ink to a piece of the picture. Once done he glanced up with a grin and it faltered as soon as it focused on Bucky’s grim face. Steve gasped, “What’s wrong?”

Bucky wordlessly handed him the draft notice and sat on the chair opposite him.

Steve stared at the notice for several long seconds. Bucky focused his eyes at his feet but, from in his peripheral vision, he saw Steve begin to tremble.

“This is not right,” Steve gasped.

“No,” Bucky replied. “But its law.”

Steve slammed down the letter then leapt to his feet and rounded the table. He grasped Bucky’s face and hissed, “Then I am joining too! They may force you to go but they can’t stop us from fighting together!”

“Y-You’ll go too?” Bucky gasped, placing a hand over one of Steve’s.

“Of course!” Steve replied, “And those Nazis are a bunch of bullies anyways. They need to ole’ Rogers- Barnes One-Two punch, right?”

Bucky grinned as his eyes overheated and threatened to spill over with tears. God. He loved this little punk so much. He whispered, “With you leading the fight, the war will be over by Christmas.”

Steve smirked sadly and retorted, “I’ll do it by Thanksgiving.”

“Even better…And—if-if…I love you, Steve. I love you so much,” Bucky stated. He had to say it. The future was no longer certain.

Steve’s fingers dug into the side of his face and said, “Don’t. Don’t talk like that. We’re going to pull through this.”

Bucky nodded but moved in to kiss Steve either way and held it much longer than normal. Steve made no comment about it. He only held Bucky tighter.

Bucky was given a few weeks to put his affairs in order and then he would do ten weeks of basic training then ship out the following week.

Steve kept his promise and went straight to a recruitment office but was immediately turned down for his ailments. He kept going back, hoping someone would take him. Yet time and time again he was rejected for his asthma, or his heart condition, or his low blood pressure. As Bucky’s deployment date neared, his husband started to lie on the forms in hopes of being accepted but they continued to deny him.

Bucky eventually had to go to training. The day he left, Steve held him tightly. Bucky could see that Steve was bristling with anger but at the same time was scared for Bucky. Bucky was scared for both of them. This was the first time they would be separated for such a long period since they met. Just the thought of not falling asleep with Steve’s warmth pressed against him made his blood curdle.

“Promise me you will write every day,” Steve murmured into his chest.

“And twice on Sundays,” Bucky agreed and kissed the top of his head. Steve looked up to him and Bucky bent down to capture his lips. After a long, drawn out kiss, Bucky whispered into his lips, “I love you, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“And I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. Be safe,” Steve replied, his tiny arms squeezing Bucky tighter.

“It’s just training,” Bucky said, stepping out of his arms and shouldering a duffel bag. He promised, “I will be back in a few weeks. Just you watch it will only feel like a couple of days....”

“And I will be here…” Steve stated with a heavy sigh, “Waiting…”

Those long ten weeks Bucky was gone was the loneliest time of his life. He had not realized how large a part of his day Steve had occupied until he was no longer there…His bed felt too cold. His food even began to taste bland. And he could not smile right without seeing Steve’s answering smile in return. His only solace were Steve’s letters as he told him about the neighborhood gossip, the panels he worked on in his apprenticeship, and how much he missed Bucky too.

Bucky’s training consisted of daily strength and endurance exercises, weapons’ training, and tactical lessons. He shot like he was born to and was quickly moved up to sniper training. Whatever target found itself in his sites, he hit it. He did not think it possible but he started to gain recognition and respect. The orphan boy everyone thought would amount to nothing and end up in jail was becoming something more. Bucky began to relish the feel of a rifle in his hands and started to map out a better future for himself and Steve.

When the ten weeks finally passed, Bucky wore the fancy new dress uniform the army gave him and was one of the first to jump on the train home. He was unable to sit still his excitement was so strong. He could not wait to see Steve, to hold him, to hear his voice, and to revel in their bond. He missed him like there was an open wound in his gut that hollowed him out and would not heal.

He jumped off the train before it came to a complete stop and looked desperately around the station.

When they saw each other from across the room it was like they were meeting their soul mate again for the first time. They ran into each other’s arms and embraced tightly. Bucky picked Steve up and he spun him through the air like when they had first met. They both laughed and he finally put him down, they kissed like it was their last day on Earth.

“I missed you, punk,” Bucky gasped.

Steve inhaled his scent deeply and replied, “I missed you too, jerk.”

They kissed again and it was so great Bucky did not even hear the murmurs of disgust from the people around them.

They walked back arm-in-arm and once they reached their apartment they were all over each other again. They tore their clothing off each other and explored each other’s bodies as if seeing them for the first time. Steve did not change but seemed softer to Bucky. Steve found Bucky’s body hard from strong muscles and discovered a few new scars from Bucky’s training: a healing gash on his leg, burns on his hands from the rebound his rifle, and many bruises all over his body from training. As he relearned Bucky, he traced all the new marks with a gentle touch.

“Were you able to enlist?” Bucky asked. They were laying in each other’s arms, both spent from the vigorous lovemaking. Steve was tucked underneath his arm and one of his hands lay on his stomach, circling a mole on his hip.

Steve bit grimly down on his lip and replied, “No.”

Bucky groaned and held him tighter. He pressed his face into Steve’s hair and kissed him. He feared losing Steve in the war but it had been grueling being separated from him. He stated, “It was horrible being away from you for these last couple of weeks. I can’t imagine being gone for months!”

“They have soul mate support groups,” Steve murmured dejectedly and picked up Bucky’s hand to twirl Bucky’s wedding band between his fingers. Bucky watched him do it silently and held his hand limply in Steve’s grip.

“It won’t make up for you though,” Bucky whined. “I don’t want you to fight but can’t you get a job with your art? They need someone to paint the tanks…Or maybe a clerical job? I know you don’t want that but at least it would get you over there!” And those jobs happened to be the safest ones, usually at the main bases, way behind enemy lines. But he did not mention that to Steve.

Steve sighed heavily into his chest and replied, “I tried that. Everything has a medical evaluation…”

Bucky groaned then carded his fingers through Steve’s fingers. He turned Steve’s fist so he could see Steve’s ring then hesitantly whispered, “I can desert. We could go to Canada—.”

“No!” Steve gasped, sitting up sharply, turning to face Bucky, and tightening his hold on Bucky’s hand. “We may not have wanted to fight in the first place but there must be a reason you were conscripted! We’ve been fighting against bullies our entire lives, maybe this was God intervening on the behalf of our country. Maybe you will make a difference. We can show everybody we are more than the deviants they think we are! And…Can you imagine the shame of running away? I refuse to let you do that to yourself! I will do my part on this end of the world and you do yours!” Steve looked down sadly and whispered, “…Just promise to fight hard so you can come back to me as quickly as possible.”

Bucky squeezed his hand and murmured, “I promise…”

\---

Steve had put in a request off work and so he spent the entire week with Bucky. Their first few days they spent locked away in their apartment and camped in their bedroom. They explored each other’s bodies, slowly ingraining every freckle, every scar, and every patch of skin into their memories. They must have exchanged thousands of “I love yous” and just as many “I’ll miss yous” but it never felt like enough.

Eventually, they ran out of food and had to go out to eat. They spoiled themselves and got their favorite pizza from Louie’s then they caught a movie.

They saw the thriller, horror movie “The Wolf Man.” On the way home, Bucky howled whenever they were not walking under streetlamps. It made Steve’s skin prickle with fear in remembrance of the movie but mostly he laughed at how foolish Bucky sounded. When they made love later that night, Bucky continued to growl and nibbled at Steve’s skin which made Steve’s moans addled by his unadulterated laughter.

The next day there was a game at the stadium so they spent the extra money and got themselves some tickets. They were high up in the nosebleeds but being able to sit in the stadium and share Dodger Dogs was one of their dreams and it was as amazing as they had imagined. They cheered and booed with the rest of the audience so loudly that their voices were hoarse by the end.

For Bucky’s last day with Steve, they started off with breakfast in bed. Steve got up early, covertly slipping out of Bucky’s arms, and silently put together French toast. He stacked the sugary concoction high on one of his mom’s old china plates and brought a single fork with him back to the bed.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Steve murmured affectionately.

Bucky’s eyes flickered open and focused on him. He smiled sleepily and asked, “What is that?”

“Breakfast,” Steve offered. Bucky sat up and his smile grew larger when he saw it was French toast.

“All this for me?” He gasped.

“No, I’m going to eat some too,” Steve teased. Steve sat back against the headboard and stretched out his legs over the mattress. He leaned into Bucky’s side as he placed the plate on his lap. The first bite Steve cut off with the edge of his fork went into his mouth and he hummed happily upon the delicious combination of syrup, nutmeg, and fluffy egg.

The next bite he held out to Bucky and his husband willingly opened his mouth and let Steve feed him. Steve whispered, “I’m going to miss waking up with you and eating with you…”

Bucky licked some syrup off the corner of his mouth and replied, “I’m going to miss staring into those baby blues every day.”

“I can color in my picture,” Steve suggested. Bucky was going to take an old black and white photograph of Steve with him. He had a photo too but he found more solace in his sketches of Bucky in which he captured the twinkle of Bucky’s eyes and the essence of his smile.

“Really?” Bucky asked excitedly. “Do you think it would be dry enough by the time I have to go?”

“I’ll start right now and it’ll probably be ready by tonight,” Steve stated. He shoveled a few more bites into his mouth then left the plate with Bucky as he slid out of bed. He pulled the picture out of Bucky’s pack then grabbed his artist tote and pulled out his paints he used at work.

“You are so amazing,” Bucky stated and Steve flushed from his praise.

He set up shop at the nearby table in the kitchen and quickly slipped into painting mode. He did not notice Bucky had finished his food or had cleaned up the plate until he leaned into Steve’s back and wrapped his thick arms around Steve’s thin chest.

“It looks just like you,” Bucky whispered.

Steve sat up and teased, “I guess you don’t need me anymore.”

Bucky smirked and ran his hand up Steve’s throat, tipping back Steve’s head. He leaned over and kissed Steve upside-down. He sucked on Steve’s lower lip then, when Steve opened his mouth, Bucky slid his tongue in. Steve groaned and pushed himself back into Bucky’s strong form. Bucky’s tongue was warm and tasted like the sugary syrup he just ate. He kept his hand on Steve’s windpipe to keep his head back but his other hand slipped down his bare chest and his heart began to beat faster.

Bucky pulled back slightly and observed, “I don’t think I can do this with a photograph.”

Steve smiled into his lips and said, “Nah, I guess not.”

Bucky crossed his arms across Steve’s chest and pulled him away from the table, knocking over Steve’s chair as he did. Steve laughed as Bucky dragged him back into the bedroom and halfheartedly fought his hold until they hit the mattress. Bucky pushed him down with another kiss and Steve molded himself into Bucky’s mouth and body.

They made love with no abandon. Bucky took the lead and thrust into him like he was trying to become more than just a lover, it was almost if he were trying to make them one. They already shared a soul and, as Steve came, he could almost believe they were one for a few seconds. When they separated, Steve felt empty. Bucky was not as gentle as he usually was and Steve knew he was going to be covered in bruises but he did not care.

Later that night, Bucky changed into his uniform and Steve loved how handsome he looked. He complimented him frequently which made Bucky puff out his chest with pride.

They went to Manhattan to catch Stark Expo at the World’s Fair. They were letting in army boys in for free before they shipped off so Steve and Bucky jumped on the deal. They found it to be more of a carnival than a technology expo. They were even able to buy popcorn and peanuts shared the small bags between them as they enjoyed the sights and spectacles of the fantastical machinery on display.

“Can you imagine having a color movie theater in our bedroom?” Bucky asked as he looked at the said large color TV on display.

“No,” Steve groaned, imagining the projector running noisily in the middle of the night. “I do not want to imagine it. There would be no room for our bed!”

Bucky grinned and said, “It’s the future, Steve, there’s no stopping it!”

Steve rolled his eyes and pushed him on to the next exhibit.

Music started on the main stage and they were drawn to it. The famous industrialist, Howard Stark, came on stage and if that was not amazing enough, he presented a flying car.

“Oh, wow,” Bucky gasped, stepping closer to get a better look. The car only hovered for a few seconds before crashing back down to the Earth.

“The future looks bright,” Steve joked and Bucky chuckled. They turned to go back to the expo but Steve paused when he saw the recruitment office.

Bucky followed his gaze and sighed heavily. He asked, “You really gonna try to do this again?”

“Might as well try my luck,” Steve said with a shrug.

Bucky studied him, biting down on his bottom lip with a worried expression. Finally, he stated, “Go get it, punk.”

Steve laughed and hugged his mate. Bucky embraced Steve tightly and buried his face into Steve’s scalp. Steve nestled his face into Bucky’s chest and felt his heart beat steadily against his cheek.

Bucky pressed a kiss into Steve’s forehead and then nodded him on. Steve slipped out of Bucky’s arms and squeezed his hands one last time before separating.

He went in, expecting it to be denied again but this time he met Dr. Erskine. The German doctor asked him, “Do you vant to kill Nazis?”

Steve was on edge, wondering if the doctor was playing a joke on him, was going to arrest him, or was being serious. Finally, he asked, “Is this a test?”

To which, the doctor instantly replied, “Yes.”

Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek and then answered truthfully, “I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies; I don’t care where they’re from.”

Dr. Erskine smiled and Bucky was walking in, over an hour later to find Steve filling out recruitment forms.

Steve grinned ecstatically at Bucky and stated, “I did it. I’m going to fight with you!”

Surprise washed over Bucky’s face then a grin split his face and he rushed over to Steve and lifted him out of the chair to hug him. Bucky gasped, “I knew you could do it, you little punk! But why’d you have to wait until my last day??”

\---

Bucky probably left an imprint of his arms bruised onto Steve’s body as he embraced him as tightly as he could. They had avoided the subject of his leaving so when they finally reached the train station it hit them both all at once.

The elation of Steve getting into the army was nothing compared to the emptiness they would both experience from being separated for the coming weeks as Steve train and Bucky fought.

“I love you,” Steve gasped into his mouth. He kissed him deeply as if he was trying to engrain himself into Bucky. The awful possibility that this might be the last time he saw Steve alive hit him as he desperately kissed him back. The thought must have occurred to Steve too because he kissed him with just as much passion.

They stood in the middle of a crowded platform. All around them, other soldiers were saying good bye to their family and loved ones. Mothers diverted their children’s eyes from Steve and Bucky’s display of affection and fathers glared at them. Steve and Bucky ignored them just as they had been doing nearly their entire lives. All that mattered to them was each other.

The call to board sounded and Bucky pulled himself out of Steve’s hold, murmuring apologies and “I love yous” as he did.

He walked backward, keeping their eyes locked as he got progressively further away. When he got to the train he hurried inside then went to the nearest window and stuck his head outside. Steve pushed through the crowd and reached up to him. Bucky pushed half his body out of the window but because of the height of the train their fingers just barely touched. They curled their fingertips in a desperate hold.

Steve gasped, “Remember in high school you promised you would follow me anywhere?”

Bucky nodded.

“I would do the same,” Steve stated. “Wait for me.”

“You need to survive basic training first,” Bucky retorted with a smirk. “…I will be counting down the days, Steve. Try to get assigned to Italy, alright?”

The train whistle sounded and everyone but Steve stepped back from the train. Steve looked down to where the walkway ended and was not willing to let Bucky go yet just as much as Bucky did not want to let go either. Steve whispered, “I’m not leaving you till the end of the platform.”

The train began to crawl forward and Steve walked with it.

Bucky nodded and tried to tighten his hold on Steve’s fingers by curling them a little more. He never looked away from his husband as he tried to burn the image of Steve’s unflinching gaze into his mind. The photograph in his breast pocket might look like Steve but it held none of his vigor. Bucky swore, “Beyond the platform, beyond the station…you’re with me, till the end of the line.”

“To the end of the line,” Steve smiled as he repeated the promise and Bucky smiled in return. This particular rail line was continuous and stretched across the country. It never ended just as their love would never end. The train was beginning to move faster and the end of the platform was rushing toward him.

“I love you, Bucky!” Steve gasped one last time.

“I love you too!” Bucky gasped quickly then broke his hold out of Steve’s.

Steve scrambled to a stop, swinging his arms slightly to gain his balance as his toes tipped over the edge. Once he straightened, he looked to Bucky and saw him still hanging out of the train. Bucky lifted his hand in farewell and Steve did the same.

\---

It was not just basic training but also a search for a candidate for the government’s Super Soldier Program. Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips would be the ones to select the final candidate for the program. The doctor was clearly for Steve but the Colonel gave Steve incredulous looks as if he could not understand why he was there. Only one of the soldiers would be selected but Steve doubted he would be chosen for it. One of the larger guys in his troop was most likely to be chosen. Steve did not care; he was just happy to be in basic training.

The training was just like Bucky had described his own. Daily they ran, stretched, did strength training, battle tactics and drills. It exhausted Steve and by the end of the day he fell into his bed and fell asleep instantly. He could not keep up with his peers but, no matter how much the drill instructors yelled at him, he never took a break or gave up.

A female British officer by the name of Peggy Carter was in charge of the division and befriended Steve. She liked his can-do attitude. Other than Dr. Erskine, she was Steve’s only encouragement.

He and Bucky wrote letters to each other every day just as when Bucky was away. It took Bucky a few weeks to reach Italy and receive Steve’s letters so for a while Steve got no letters in return. The first letter he received from his husband was hastily written and was mostly about how much he missed him. Steve imagined him writing the letter as soon as he found out they could mail them out and it brought a smile to his face.

Bucky’s letters got back to Steve out of order or in bunches and Steve assumed the same on his end. They used V-mail so neither got the actual written letters from each other. The army scanned their letters and transferred them into microfilm to make transporting solders’ letters lighter and easier. Steve wished he could feel the texture of the indents left by Bucky’s pen or try to pick up Bucky’s scent like when Bucky was away for basic training…but there was no other secure way to send a letter overseas so they made do with what they were given.

Once Steve told Bucky about the Super Solider Program, Bucky wrote that Steve would be chosen for his courageous spirit and gallantry. Steve scoffed aloud when he read it but it made his chest swell proudly. Bucky thought he could do it and that was worth more to him than anything Dr. Erskine or the Colonel would decide.

It was just one of those ordinary days when Colonel Phillips threw a grenade into the middle of the exercising platoon. Steve reacted immediately, thinking of Peggy, his teammates, Dr. Erskine, and even the Colonel, and threw himself on the grenade. It was only when he wrapped his body over the grenade and put his hands on top of his head did he regret his action. His exposed wrists were right in front of his face and his blank timer stared at him almost accusingly. He did not have enough time to jump back.

Steve screamed at everyone to get back, his heart breaking for Bucky as he did.

The grenade did not go off.

It had been another test and Steve passed.

He was chosen for the Super Soldier Program.

That night, Dr. Erskine told Steve about secret mission behind the Super Soldier Program and gave him the chance to decline. The program was not about finding the perfect soldier, but creating him, using a serum created by the doctor. Steve was to be the first human test subject for this new serum but the doctor warned that a prior serum had been used with unfortunate circumstances. The doctor could not promise something would not go wrong with this serum too and let Steve have the final say in whether or not this would happen.

Steve rubbed his soul implant and could feel the doctor staring understandingly at it along with Steve. Usually, when someone saw his blank soul implant, they asked him about his mate but Dr. Erskine never did.

Steve could not help but note the doctor’s soul implant had a digital read out of 15 zeros, meaning he never had a soul mate or he had lost his soul mate and his timer turned back on, as if returning to factory settings. Most of the time, when one loses a mate, their implant zeros out. Most elect to kill themselves to join their deceased soul mates. In a few rare cases, the implant resets with a new timer, counting down the time until you meet your next mate.

Very few elected to live on with a zeroed out soul implant. The thought alone made Steve nauseous and he rubbed his implant self-consciously.

He thought over the doctor’s offer. If the serum did not work then he could become mentally or physically scarred or die. And it would not just effect Steve but Bucky as well… He could imagine Bucky sitting in a trench and his soul implant letting off a shrill beep as it turned back on then he would look down at his arm and a look of devastated understanding would cloud his features as the 15 zeros appeared on the screen.

But, if he did not do it, then he would not be able to fight and, if that was the case, then he might not see Bucky for years. Neither of them would be able to survive such a separation, making Steve’s decision very easy.

Once he agreed to do it, things moved along very quickly and the very next day Steve was to get the injection. Peggy drove him to the sight which happened to be in his hometown of Brooklyn, hidden away within an old antique shop.

He was led immediately to a capsule and was stripped of his shirt as he was put in. He was quickly strapped in and, after an injection of penicillin, the serum was injected into him. It burned into his veins and he clenched his teeth but was able to handle the pain. The capsule he lay in lifted and closed around him once he was standing upright.

Dr. Erskine knocked on the glass and asked if Steve was alright. Steve took a deep breath and joked, “I guess it’s too late to go to the bathroom?”

The doctor chuckled then gave the go ahead for the next step. The vita rays turned on with a bright glow and boiled the serum in his veins. Steve gritted his teeth but, after a few seconds of exposure, he could not hold back his scream. He heard the doctor try to put a stop to it but Steve screamed for them not to and the vita rays continued to burn into him.

He grew: his bones and muscles stretched, tore, and reformed only to stretch, tare and reform again. But the worst part was the serum, burning itself into every piece of him.

Then he was immersed in darkness as the vita rays instantly turned off and his pain disappeared just as quickly. Gasping for breath, Steve felt residual effects of the serum tingle in his skin and his body felt…odd. He did not realize how odd until the capsule opened and Steve was able to see why everything felt so different. His body was huge! He was taller and his muscles larger than Bucky’s.

Dr. Erskine lightly grasped his arm and Steve fell forward, not used to his new body.

Someone handed him a shirt and he clumsily pulled it on.

“We need a new implant right now!” He heard the doctor gasp. Steve groggily regarded Dr. Erskine but his words did not filter through because a second later the building was rocked by an explosion. There were gunshots and the doctor was hit. Steve caught him and lowered him to the ground slowly. Dr. Erskine grasped his forearm, his hand squeezing the soul implant, and then he died in Steve’s arms, his hand sliding off Steve’s arm.

Steve gently placed the doctor back on the ground and followed Peggy in pursuit. They almost caught the guy…but he killed himself, leaving Steve with the cryptic words, “When one head dies, two more take its place.”

Steve returned to the remains of the bunker but as soon as he arrived Peggy dragged him into an empty room, away from the destruction.

“We need to get you checked over. Wait here, I am going to get one of the doctors,” Peggy stated and left him alone. Steve sighed and finally took the time to look at himself. As he traced out his new muscles his eyes focused on his soul implant and it felt as if the world stopped turning, jerking everything to a sudden stop.

The implant must have been destroyed in the experiment and had cracked in half. The ramifications for his soul implant breaking sunk in and Steve leapt to his feet. He ran out of the room screaming Peggy’s name and praying to God he won’t be too late.

\---

It happened in the middle of the night, when most were asleep. Bucky had been sitting at a campfire and sharing a can of beans with his newfound friends.

The beep was shrill and, for a moment, he stupidly thought it was the screech from a subway car’s breaks. He flinched as if preparing to jump out of the way then glanced sheepishly around him to make sure no one noticed. The others seemed to have similar uneasy reactions and he and his buddies exchanged confused glances.

“What the hell was that?” Dum-Dum murmured.

“Sounded kinda like a soul implant,” Bucky murmured, remembering the similar beep his had made when he met Steve. Though…that beep had been more akin to a bell. This one were like the shrill breaks to a subway car as he thought it was originally.

Remembering Steve brought back the all too familiar ache of loneliness. It had been many weeks since he last saw his lover. It had yet to be as long as the ten weeks Bucky spent in basic training but knowing they were on separate hemispheres seemed to make it worse.

He and the others all glanced down at their implants. Bucky had to roll up the sleeve of his shirt to look.

Jim, probably the only Asian in Italy, commented on his, “Still counting…”

Bucky did not hear what the others said as his eyes focused on his implant.

His counter was supposed to have a blank screen but the angle of the firelight must have been casting an odd shadow on his implant because it looked like there were numbers on the screen. He moved his arm closer to the fire to look at it better. The shadows shifted along his arm but the dark marks in his implant did not change. The grisly numbers counted out a long line of zeros.

He stared blankly at it. His mind could not comprehend what he was seeing. It was not possible.

He ran his thumb over the screen, as if to wipe off the dirt that was playing a trick on his mind. It had to be dirt because otherwise…He rubbed at the screen yet the damning zeros remained and the truth hit Bucky like a ton of lead.

He rubbed at his implant as if to rub off the numbers and gasped in a furious mantra, “No, no, no, no –!”

“Bucky?”

“Nooooo,” he moaned. Someone lightly grasped his shoulder and he tore it out of their grip and rubbed furiously at the implant. It could not be true. Steve was still stateside. He was nowhere near the war. He was safe.

_Then why won’t these zeros wipe off??_

“It’s got to be a mistake!” He gasped, still rubbing, still disbelieving.

“His soul implant –,” someone gasped with understanding, an understanding that was just now starting to hit Bucky.

He started to scratch at it, tearing his skin in the process.

“Bucky stop!” Dum-Dum yelled and grabbed his arm.

“NO!” Bucky screamed and fought against his friend’s hold. “NO, IT’S A MISTAKE!”

“Get a medic over here now! He needs to be tranquilized before he kills himself!” Dum-Dum roared.

Bucky raged and screamed against Dum-Dum’s hold but the burly man held him strong. The entire camp woke in the onslaught and gathered around. Many soldiers ran up with their guns in hand and looked as if they were expecting enemy troops.

“What the hell is going on?” One of the roused soldiers asked.

“His implant just reactivated,” another explained. “His soul mate is dead.”

Bucky froze at the overheard words then sunk into Dum-Dum’s hold as those damning works sunk into his mind. He gazed down at his arm and saw it was true. His implant had truly restarted.

Steve was dead.

Bucky closed his eyes and, with a shuddering breath, willed himself to die with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first came up with this in my mind, I foolishly assumed I would get these last two chapters condensed into one chapter with 5,000 words....14,000 some words later I was proved wrong...  
> As always I will post in about a week-ish! Thanks for reading!
> 
> To be continued in Chapter Three: War


	3. War

It took them over two hours to find Steve a new soul implant. He tore off the old one as soon as he saw it was damaged and it took a chunk of his flesh with it. The implant was connected to the large vein in his arm that connected with his heart. He instantly bled profusely but his new body healed it within minutes. He overheard someone comment that such an injury should have bleed out and killed him but Steve ignored the meaning behind the words.

His new implant recalibrated with a light beep then counted: 00000:04:12:18:43:09.

Steve read aloud, “Four months, twelve days, eighteen hours, forty-three minutes, and eight – seven – six seconds…” He glared at the doctor who applied the new implant and hissed, “I have already met my soul mate. _Why do I have a countdown??_ ”

He refused to let the thought that Bucky was gone cross his mind. It was this new implant’s fault or the doctors, Bucky was certainly not gone and Steve certainly did not have anyone else be eligible to be his soul mate. Bucky was the only one.

“This always happens when a soul implant is damaged to someone who already found their soul mate. This implant is new so it does not know you two have already met. And your mate’s implant is registering a new compatible implant so it too does not know you two have already met. This means you won’t see your soul mate until that time.”

Steve sighed heavily in relief but still felt a pinch in his heart. He ran his thumb over the new implant and whispered to himself, “It’s so long…I thought I would be able to ship out and join him…” Steve’s thoughts turned to Bucky and his heart stopped. He jumped to his feet and demanded, “Someone has to phone over or send out a telegram to Bucky’s troop NOW! He does not know what happened! He might think he has a new mate! He probably thinks I’m dead!”

Peggy jumped to her feet and started barking out orders. She eventually commandeered one of the remaining general’s portable phones and, after making threats and promises to the various operators on the lines, she was able to get him through. Meanwhile, the general glared at Peggy and his colleagues watched on with amusement.

She held out the phone to Steve. It was like any other phone with a speaker for his ear on one end and one for his mouth on the other. It was connected to the heavy transmitting unit by a long, curled wire. Peggy whispered, “Talk to him.”

Steve carefully grasped the phone, wary he might break it with his new strength, and cradled it to the side of his face.

“…Bucky?” Steve whispered.

He heard a choked sob then Bucky gasped, “Steve?”

“I’m here,” Steve reassured him. He could not imagine what his mate went through in the last few hours. Steve whispered, “I’m here, I’m alive, I’m alright…”

“Fuck, I – fuck –,” Bucky gasped unable to get out any words. Steve could tell he was crying by the way his voiced hitched.

“I was chosen for the Super Soldier Program, Buck,” Steve explained. Bucky would not have gotten his letter yet. “And there was this…machine. It broke my implant. I have a new one now. That’s why we have a countdown again. We aren’t going to see each other for another four months…I’m sorry.”

“I-It’s not your fault, you p-punk,” Bucky sniffled loudly. “ _Goddamnit_ , I thought you were dead. Fuck. Don’t ever do that to me again. F-fuck, keep talking I need to hear your voice!”

“I love you,” Steve instantly whispered and he heard Bucky’s breath hitch on the other end. He continued, “I love you so much. It’s amazing to hear your voice. I have been dreaming of you every night. I miss you so much and...I…I’m different now. They gave me this serum, Buck. It changed me.”

“W-What happened?”

Steve smiled to himself. Bucky was catching his breath, the tears were no longer falling, and soon he’d be his cocky self again. Steve explained, “Well I’m healthier and a little bigger…”

“Healthier?” Bucky caught, ignoring the other half.

Steve’s smile grew into a large grin and said, “Yes, a doctor checked my heart, my lungs…all my ailments are gone. You are going to be stuck with me for a long, long time.”

“Are you serious?” Bucky gasped. The doctors always predicted Steve would die young like his mother.

“Yes.”

“That’s – ! That’s amazing!” Bucky inhaled deeply and yelled out on his end, “MY MATE’S AS HEALTHY AS A HORSE!”

There was a light cheer on his end. Bucky must have been a wreck when he thought Steve had died. Steve could imagine the entire 107th learning Bucky had lost his mate either through word of mouth or from seeing Bucky’s reaction in their close corridors. Bucky saw all of the men as brothers and they probably regarded him as the same. Learning that Steve was still alive was probably thrilling news for the troop.

“I freaking love you so much right now!” Bucky hissed into the phone. “If you were here I would sequester us in my tent and fuck you all day long.”

Steve flushed and turned away from Peggy and the others as he covertly whispered into the receiver, “We’ve been separated too long. It will have to be longer than a day.”

“For the rest of the week then, I don’t care if I’m court-martialed,” Bucky retorted smugly.

Steve shivered and gasped, “Then we will have to do exactly that in four months.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bucky groaned. “Will you be coming here then? I doubt the war will be done by then at this rate.”

“Yes, I will come to Italy,” Steve promised. He knew they could not stay on the phone much longer by the looks the general was shooting him so he whispered one last time, “I love you, Sweetheart.”

“And I love you, Stevie. Don’t break your damn implant again, okay?”

“You got it…”

“Punk,” Bucky murmured affectionately in way of dismissal.

“Jerk,” Steve retorted with just as much fondness. He turned back around then handed the phone back to Peggy and she hung it up.

“Thank you,” Steve whispered to her.

Peggy lightly grasped his shoulder and explained, “…Steve, since Dr. Erskine passed, the program can no longer continue. The Colonel wants you to stay stateside and be studied.”

“Or—,” A man stepped forward from the general’s colleagues. Steve recognized him as one of the senators who came to watch the experiment. He continued, “You can join the USO and—“He tapped Steve’s soul implant. “– if you are a success, I can see you going overseas in about this time.”

“W-What do I have to do?” Steve gasped.

\---

“I don’t think I can do this,” Steve squeaked.

“Nothing to it. Sell a few bonds, bonds buy a few bullets, bullets kill Nazis. Bing Bang Boom. You’re an American hero,” the stagehand stated, slapping his back.

“This is not how I pictured getting there,” Steve whispered, he bunched his mask in his hands for half a second and then pulled it on over his face before he lost his courage.

Steve joined the USO and was turned into “Captain America,” a heroic persona that protected the American way, sold bonds, and punched out Hitler every other day.

His first show was nerve wracking. He could face three bullies at once, all twice his size, but, even with his new strong body, he was scared to death about preforming in front of an audience.

Eventually, he got used to it and had even memorized his lines. He became a hit across the country and toured from sea to shining sea.

A part of his contract was to not tell any of his new fans about his soul implant. Even on his papers, they had him written as unmated so anyone who did not know him or Bucky personally would believe it.

He became the sweetheart of every unmated woman in the country and everyone tried to see his counter to see how much time he had left. According to his agent, all the unmated women wanted to become the next Mrs. Captain America. For some reason, the mystery of the time left on his implant made him more desirable and they had a higher turnout of women at his shows as time went on.

They made him wear long red gloves to hide his soul implant and his wedding ring. The ring itself had to be resized since even his fingers seemed to have grown larger. It had popped off when he rapidly grew and they found the remains laying in the bottom of the capsule. The ring now had a shiny golden extension which he kept tucked in between the digits of his fingers in favor of seeing the old, burnished gold from the original ring.

Every night before he went to bed, Steve would look at his soul implant and watch it countdown, bringing him closer to his soul mate as every second ticked by.

Every day drew him closer to Bucky but he did not get the notice to start his tour in Europe until he had a month left. It took them a week to get all the details together, over a week to cross the Atlantic and then another week to get to their first gig. Then with only two days separating him and Bucky, Steve preformed his first show for the troops…and failed miserably.

He got booed offstage and the chorus girls ran past him to save the show. He grasped his wrist and felt the thin body of his soul implant beneath his glove. Shame burned into his cheeks but he reminded himself that he only had two more days. Two more days and he would be with Bucky again.

He came across Peggy and thought her presence might cheer him up…until she told him why this troop was so belligerent. They were the 107th and had lost a good portion of their men.

“The 107th?” Steve asked, his voice made hoarse from his disbelief.

When Peggy nodded her confirmation, Steve ran from her without explanation and went straight to where he knew the colonel’s tent to be.

He pushed aside Colonel Phillips’ aides and went straight to the man, demanding to see the list of men lost to the Nazis. The colonel refused.

“Sir, I just need one name: James Buchanan Barnes…he-he’s my soul mate, sir. Please, I did not see him in the crowd…”

If the colonel was shocked by his being mated to man, he did not show it. He blinked back his initial surprise then sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He said, “I’ve written a lot of condolence letters in the last few days…but that name sounds familiar.” Steve’s heart dropped as the colonel looked through his papers and withdrew a single sheet. He held the letter out to Steve and murmured, “I’m sorry, son.”

Steve took the letter and stared disbelieving at the letter that proclaimed his husband “Missing in Action.” On his wrist, his implant continued to tick away. Bucky was still alive but that could change any second. Steve whispered, “But I was supposed to see him in two days…”

Colonel Phillips clapped his shoulder and murmured his condolences.

\---

Bucky had heard many stories about how prisoners of war were treated. Mostly, they were horror stories soldiers traded around the campfire to spook their buddies. Whatever truth they might have contained was always stretched…or at least, that was what he believed.

When he and 400 other guys were captured, Bucky did not know what to expect. Were they going to be sent to the deadly concentration camps he heard whispered about? Or jailed like criminals in a prison? Or worse, locked away outside like cattle with nothing but the clothes on their backs to fight the freezing elements?

When they reached the Nazi base, Bucky felt somewhat relieved. At least they would have a roof over their heads. There were large holding cells in the basement, big enough to hold the hundreds of prisoners.

On their first night, they took one of the guys out of their cell. They did so with a number of armed guards with their weapons out and pointed at them. A short, pudgy man with glasses selected who was to be taken then they never saw that man again. The process repeated itself nightly. At first, they tried to fight back but it only resulted in their men being shot and killed. After a few nights of useless dying, many gave up and avoided the pudgy man’s gaze, hoping not to be selected. Bucky was ashamed to be included in their numbers.

His only solace was his implant, counting down the days to see Steve but as the days dwindled down that solace turned into an impending nightmare. Their rescue was seeming unlikely with every passing hour so if he was not going to see Steve after his rescue then he reasoned he would see Steve after _Steve’s_ capture.

He imagined the pudgy man choosing Steve and shivered at the thought.

He never thought in a million years, that he would be chosen.

Bucky did not go compliantly. He fought like hell and cursed in an endless stream of insults. He was not strong enough to escape their hold. But, one of his captors received a broken nose and lost some teeth when Bucky smashed his head into the man’s face. The other man who was dragging him away went to hit him after the act but the pudgy man stopped him.

“I can’t have him damaged before we begin.”

The statement made him feel sick but it was only when he saw the operating table was Bucky able to guess what they had planned for him. Bucky fought wildly, throwing his limbs in all directions and kicking at his captors with all his strength. Half a dozen more men had to come in to strap him down. He was restrained from head to toe. He had to strain his eyes in order to watch the pudgy man as he walked around the room

Once he was secured, the pudgy man called the guards away and then stepped beside Bucky, peering down at him speculatively.

“You bastard!” Bucky hissed. “You bloody bastard! Don’t you dare touch me! I will kill you!”

“…I like your fire,” the pudgy man commented. He pulled a syringe out of his pocket filled with an amber liquid and explained, “You are going to need it.”

He pressed the needle against the corner of his jaw and cautioned, “If you move, you will die.” And then he plunged the thick needle into Bucky’s flesh. He angled the needle so it went up into the base of his skull and Bucky’s eyesight instantly went black.

For a few seconds, he was suspended in a whole other universe. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, and he couldn’t think. It was just darkness and it scared Bucky to death.

Bucky resurfaced gagging for air. He fought his bounds to no avail. Above him the pudgy man was shushing him and murmuring, “Almost done, almost done.”

He withdrew the needle slowly and, once it was completely removed, the pressure was alleviated from his throat and he could breathe again. As he gasped for breath, the pudgy man hovered over him and watched him expectantly.

He felt dizzy and darkly wondered if whatever the pudgy man gave him was going to knock him out.

In seconds, Bucky was on fire. He arched his back to try to escape it and screamed until his throat could no longer. The entire time his body felt like it was cracking open and spewing molten lava. He convulsed without any control, injuring himself further.

He was not going to survive this. There was no way he could survive this pain.

He woke hours later as the pudgy man was checking his vitals. He did not remember falling unconscious. But the pain was gone. It was blessedly gone. His entire body ached and he wondered how long he had been out. The pudgy man removed the strap on his forehead and watched his eyes as he gently shook his head back and forth. As soon as he let go of him, Bucky rolled his head down to look at his arm. His eyes went to his implant and his stomach plummeted.

“Let me go,” Bucky begged. He tried to explain, “…my soul mate – my soul mate…”

“Yes, I saw you only have a few more hours...You probably won’t meet her at this point. There aren’t any women in the area for miles. Your poor soul mate is probably so excited. You survived the first bout but I doubt you will survive the second.” The pudgy man shook his head morosely and sighed, “None have so far…”

“N-no,” Bucky groaned and shook his head.

The pudgy man ripped open Bucky’s shirt and wiped a cold liquid on his chest.

“Wha-Wha you doing?” Bucky gasped. He tried to push himself up but the straps across his shoulders restricted him.

“The second bout,” murmured the pudgy man. He was pressing his fingertips into Bucky’s chest, measuring his sternum. His fingers paused in the middle of his chest and then shifted his touch slightly to the left. Bucky’s heart beat rapidly beneath the pressure of the pudgy man’s fingers. The pudgy man raised his other hand, revealing another syringe filled with a darer liquid.

“No,” Bucky gasped. “Please, _no_!”

He instantly was gasping for air as he began to hyperventilate. The pudgy man pressed into his flesh as he felt for the gap in his ribs and then stabbed the syringe into his heart.

All the muscles in his chest seized and his heart jolted from the piercing before freezing in his chest. This time Bucky was suspended within in his own body. For several long seconds, Bucky felt himself teeter on the edge of a dark abyss. His heart did not beat, his lungs did not expand, and Bucky could feel the very tether to his life stretch beyond its limit.

The pudgy man withdrew the syringe and stepped away. He whispered hopefully to himself, “But if you do survive you will be near indestructible.”

At the sound of his voice, Bucky collapsed within himself and his heart pounded so powerfully against his chest it was as if it were trying to break free.

For the second bout, Bucky could not scream or fight against his bounds whatever they put inside him paralyzed him. He just lay there as whatever the pudgy man injected into his body destroyed him by cutting away at him in tiny pieces. His voice was lost to him for all but one word. That word…that name…became a mantra for him.

“Steve…Steve…Steve…”

A lifetime passed as the cold ate away at him. He lost feeling in his limbs, his breath rattled in his chest, and he lost his mind to blurry delusions for a long time. The only thing that kept him going was the name on his lips and what it meant to him.

“Steve…Steve…Steve…”

Steve kept him going. Steve kept him alive. In the end, he survived because of him. He became conscious of his survival when most of the cold had seeped out of his body and his mind returned with renewed clarity.

“Looks like I’m indestructible, Steve,” Bucky whispered to his husband, wherever he was, and tried to smile cockily at no one in particular. His lips trembled from the effort and he ended up closing his mouth with a pained huff.

He closed his eyes and gave his body much needed rest.

Maybe the pudgy man would think he was dead and he would wake up on the outside of the base, tossed away like trash but free.

Bucky’s dreams were always about Steve and in this one he happily embraced him in the dream world. They danced and laughed on the moon then leapt from it to the Earth and landed in New York, far from Europe and the War. They went to their apartment and lay in their bed, whispering about nonsensical things. An alarm started buzzing but he and Steve ignored it.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered his name, his voice oddly faded.

Steve was torn from his grasp and the pudgy man hovered over his husband with a long syringe. He blinked and they were both gone, leaving Bucky alone.

“STEVE?!”

“Bucky,” Steve called out to him, his voice sounded far away.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Bucky hissed, surging upon the pudgy man.

“You survived,” the pudgy man commented.

“Where’s my husband??” Bucky demanded.

“Bucky,” the pudgy man whispered as his form wavered.

“Where’s Steve??”

“It’s me,” the wavering form above him whispered. “It’s Steve.”

Bucky felt a warm hand touch his shoulder and his soul implant beeped loudly. It was echoed by twin beep close by. Bucky grasped the blurry figure tightly and blinked rapidly. It couldn’t be, he was too big. Bucky gasped, “Steve?”

Bucky was enfolded into a tight hug and he instantly recognized his lover’s scent, though the form was thrice the size it used to be.

Steve painfully gasped into neck, “I thought I would never see you again.”

“I thought you were smaller,” Bucky murmured ironically. His eyesight returned to him and he pulled back to really look Steve. Gone was the anemic looking Steve. What replaced him was a larger version, taller and more muscled.

“Steve?” Bucky gasped, disbelieving his eyes. He blinked several times just to be sure.

“C’mon, Buck,” Steve whispered gently. He cradled Bucky’s back as he helped him sit up.

Steve flushed and dropped his gaze as Bucky continued to stare at him. Steve easily broke the bindings on him like they were nothing. Bucky had been fighting those same bounds for hours and he stared incredulously at Steve. How did he do that? Steve’s flush deepened and he peered embarrassedly at the floor as he helped Bucky to his feet.

“What happened to you?” Bucky gasped. On his feet, he could see Steve was as tall as he was, no, he was taller and broader. Could the drugs they pumped into Bucky be messing with his mind? He touched Steve’s chest and was surprised to feel solid muscle beneath his hand.

“I joined the army,” Steve retorted with a happy grin. He cupped the side of Bucky’s face and drew him in. When his lips met Steve’s there was no doubt that this man was his husband. Bucky weakly wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck and leaned into his lips. Steve pulled back slightly and whispered, “I told you the serum changed me.”

”Did it hurt?”

“A little,” Steve said with a shrug. Bucky’s muscles ached as he remembered what the pudgy man did to him. Did Steve go through the same?

“Is it permeant?”

“So far,” Steve replied with a smile. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. You owe me at least a week of ravishing.”

Bucky leaned heavily into him and gasped, “Thank God.”

Steve laughed, it was filled with relief and joy, and it gave Bucky the strength to move on.

He and Steve must have had the worst lucky in the entire universe because as they were trying to escape, of all the people to come across, they somehow cross paths with the very leader of the base and the pudgy man. Steve instantly charged forward to attack but a great divide separated them as the crumbling base hindered him further.

Steve and the leader glared at each other and exchanged words but Bucky did not hear them. He and the pudgy man only had eyes for each other. The man paled considerably and a sheen of sweat coated his forehead in a matter of seconds but his gaze was hungry. He looked like he wanted to consume Bucky whole.

But his eyes were diverted as the leader was literally pulling off the flesh of his face and Bucky’s eyes shot away from the pudgy man to him.

“You don’t have one of those, do you?” Bucky asked with a gulp then he darkly wondered if the same would happen to him. What had he been injected with? What would it do to him? Was he really indestructible or was the pudgy man running his mouth off?

“No,” Steve stated.

“Good,” Bucky gasped. He touched his own face and tugged at the skin. It stayed on, _thank_ _God_. Maybe he really was not indestructible. If Hydra’s form of indestructibleness came with a red skull for a face, Bucky would gladly not take it.

He had to look spiffy for his man after all.

When the pudgy man and the leader escaped, Steve and Bucky did not give chase. Everything was on fire around them and it was all crumbling like a sandcastle drying under the heat of the sun.

All around them was fire, Steve pointed to a beam, which could lead them across to the other side and an exit.

“Let’s go, one at a time,” Steve said, pushing for Bucky to go first. He helped Bucky over the railing, Bucky hunched over to keep his balance, and then cautiously crossed the beam. Beneath his feet, he felt the beam tremble and, as he reached the end, it totally collapsed. Bucky leapt and grabbed the opposite railing with a scramble.

He pulled himself over and when he looked behind him, all he saw was the great expanse of fire and open air that separated him and his soul mate.

“There’s got to be a rope or something,” Bucky gasped, looking around wildly.

“Just go!” Steve yelled, motioning for him to run. “Get out of here!”

“No!” Bucky screamed, letting the word tear his throat. He would _never_ let Steve out of his sight again! “Not without you!”

He and Steve were going to _never_ separate again.

Steve looked like he was about to argue until he met Bucky’s eyes and saw his defiance. Steve nodded then backed up several paces. He covered the distance he made, in several large strides, and leapt. Bucky could have sworn his heart leapt up into his throat too.

For a few seconds, he truly thought he was going to watch Steve die in front of him.

No normal man could have covered that distance but Steve was no longer normal.

He landed beside Bucky and looked as shocked as Bucky at his landing. Several large explosions rocked the building, almost jarring them off their feet. Steve grasped Bucky’s arm and slung it over his shoulder then he ran them out of the building. A huge explosion lifted them off their feet just as they reached the door and they were thrown the rest of the way out. They went flying through the air then came to a rolling stop several paces away from the building.

Steve landed on top of him, forcing the breath out of his lungs. They stared at each other for a moment, both shocked to be alive, then Steve laughed and Bucky joined in. Steve grasped his face and pulled him into a deep kiss and breathing did not matter anymore. Bucky closed his eyes but instantly felt uneasy. With his eyes closed, Steve was alien to him. His body was so much larger, taller, broader, and heavier. There were new curves to his full muscles and he was unusually warmer.

It was unnerving until Steve moved against him. His loving, soft kisses, the circling caresses to his fingers, the slow, almost casual hump of his hips, the taste of his saliva on his tongue, and then Steve moaned into his mouth. It was the same noise he made whenever Bucky turned him on just right.

“ _Oh_ , _Steve_ ,” he gasped, running his hands over his husband’s new body and learning its new shape. Steve eagerly moved into the touch and guided Bucky’s hands.

“We are never separating again,” Steve hissed and his fingers dug into the flesh of his arms tightly, bruising his skin and drawing a painful grunt from Bucky. Steve instantly froze and Bucky cracked open his eyes to see a look of horror on his face.

“D-Did I hurt you?” Steve gasped. He sat up sharply and tore open Bucky’s shirt, popping off a few buttons, and pulled it down to expose his arms. Steve paled when he saw the red marks left behind by his hands. “ _Oh my God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry_!”

“It’s alright, Stevie,” Bucky said, sitting up. He clapped Steve’s face and made him look at him as he whispered, “I barely feel it.” He grinned suggestively and said, “We will just have to get a lot of practice in. I don’t want you breaking my hips.”

Steve grinned and gently touched the back of his hands. Steve sighed and then stared deeply into Bucky’s eyes. He whispered, “When I saw you strapped to that table, I thought I was too late, Buck. We can’t ever separate again. I can’t live without you.” his hands hovered over the sides of Bucky’s face and he whispered, “I love you too much.”

“I love you too, Stevie and you won’t hurt or lose me,” Bucky said. He smirked and added, “I’m not that easy to get rid of, you punk.”

Steve’s eyes sparkled and he affectionately replied, “Jerk.”

\---

When they got back to the camp, everyone wanted to thank or congratulate Steve for what he did. All Steve wanted to do was to take Bucky back to his quarters and spend the rest of the week making love like he promised. Yet Steve stayed and accepted their thanks and Bucky stood off to the side to watch. Steve caught his eye a couple of times and saw Bucky studying him with a fond eye. It took all of Steve’s willpower not to jump on his husband in front of the others.

After all the thanks, and toasts, and excitement, Steve and Bucky eventually got away. Steve had been given a room separate from the barracks. It held a bed, dresser, and desk. The bed was big enough to fit his new form and then some. He doubted he and Bucky would have any trouble with it.

Steve locked the door behind him and watched Bucky’s back as he walked into the room ahead of him. Steve had some of his Captain America merchandise laying around and Bucky seemed to be studying it.

“Captain America?” He read off the cover of one of the comics at his feet.

Steve slid the bomber off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. As he walked up behind Bucky, he lifted his shirt over his head then threw it to the ground too. His dog tags slipped free from his shirt and bounced back onto his bare chest.

He stepped behind Bucky and wrapped his arms around his torso. He tucked his chin between Bucky’s shoulder and neck, kissing the large vein in his neck lightly, and reached for the waistband of Bucky’s pants.

Bucky hummed in approval and shifted his hips back into Steve’s. Steve groaned as Bucky’s ass rubbed into his cock. Bucky turned his head toward him and Steve took the opportunity to steal a kiss. When their lips broke apart, Bucky asked, “So are you a superhero now?”

Steve grinned and said, “I have a mask and a comic series…I think I am one.”

“My hero,” Bucky purred. Steve chuckled and Bucky silenced it with a kiss. Steve finally managed to undo Bucky’s belt, quickly snapped open his top button, then slid his hand into Bucky’s pants. Bucky groaned heatedly into his mouth as Steve’s hand wrapped around his cock. Steve withdrew his lover’s dick for better access and Bucky leaned heavily into him. Steve stroked him and used his pre-come for lubrication. All the while, his whispered wanton things into Bucky’s mouth. Kissing became impossible as Bucky was shallowly panting and leaning heavily into Steve’s chest.

Bucky’s loosened trousers fell to his ankles and Steve’s cock hardened as he peered at his husband’s exposed lower body. He was beautiful. His legs were long and lean and his cock jutted out almost proudly into Steve’s hand. Steve could never get enough of him. He increased his pace, rubbing his own hard cock into Bucky’s ass as he did.

Under his touch, Bucky came quickly and his come splattered on his shirt and Steve’s hand.

Bucky laughed and leaned heavily into Steve as he recovered his strength. He turned his head toward Steve, his eyes were half lidded and a happy smile was on his lips. Bucky reached up and cupped the back of his head. He whispered, “That was amazing,” and then drew Steve into a kiss. The kiss was soft at first, but Bucky began to regain his energy and the kiss became wilder.

Before Steve could grab ahold of his cock again, Bucky pushed Steve into the wall then hefted Steve’s leg over his waist. Steve threw back his head with a groan as he felt Bucky’s hot cock rub his own through the fabric of his uniform. Bucky gasped, “Crap, you’re heavy. I’m not going to be able to push you up the wall anymore.”

Steve grinned excitedly and whispered, “But I can do it to you now.”

Before Bucky could reply, Steve picked him up and spun them around so Bucky’s back was to the wall instead of Steve’s. Bucky grinned and kicked his shoes and pants off then Steve pushed him up and Bucky wrapped his legs around Steve’s hips. Steve settled Bucky’s weight on his hips which freed his arms to explore.

Steve had never been able to beat Bucky in arm wrestling, nonetheless able to pick his entire body off the floor. He loved the feeling of his husband’s weight on him.

Steve tore open Bucky’s shirt for a second time that day. The first time it had been to make sure he did not break Bucky’s arms, now he wanted Bucky naked and totally exposed to him.

“Did you really –,” Buck began as Steve dipped his head. He bit down on his nipple and Bucky hissed sharply. He slowly humped his cock into Steve’s abdomen. Bucky continued when he caught his breath, “– h-have to ruin my shirt? _Oh_ _God_ , _Steve_ ,” he moaned, digging his fingers into Steve’s hair as he continued his assault on his nipple.

Steve pulled back, lightly blowing on Bucky’s puckered nipple. Bucky groaned from the sensation and Steve grinned again at him. He moved onto the next one and whispered, “Sweetheart, I will not let these clothes get in my way to you.”

“Then how the hell do I get this off??” Bucky demanded, pulling at the tougher material of Steve’s Captain America uniform. Steve had taken off the top half but the bottom remained and Bucky’s fingers scratched uselessly at the top of his pants that seemingly had no zippers or buttons.

“I will show you,” Steve promised, dragging his new nipple out between his teeth. Bucky groaned again and it was the most beautiful sound Steve ever heard.

\---

Neither Steve nor Bucky noticed that the bruises Steve had accidently pressed into Bucky’s arms were gone. It had completely healed in hours when it should have taken over a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Ch. 4 The Fall (I wonder what's going to happen? >:3)


	4. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if the chapter title didn't give you any clues, this is the chapter in which Bucky falls and is presumed dead. I wrote that scene and the moment he loses his arm from Bucky's POV so it will be violent and gory! This is your warning queasy people!

The army gave both Steve and the entire 107th a leave from fighting and were sent to the safer territory of England. For the 107th, it was a time to heal and regain their strength. Bucky used the time to relearn all of Steve. Bucky was more than happy to live up to his promise and they spent days in bed, making love.

By the point he lost count the times they made love, he no longer felt Steve’s new body to be alien. He would miss not being able to carry Steve but he would never trade it back for this healthier and happier Steve. And the fact that Steve could freaking pick him up and fuck him against the wall was such a turn on that he really did not care that he could no longer do the same anymore.

When Steve ventured out, the first thing he did was ask to make a special ops team to go on special missions to take care of the remaining Hydra bases. Command okayed it and the first person he requested for his team was Bucky to which command agreed, on one condition.

“WHAT?” Bucky yelled. He turned to Steve and gasped, “I know I did not hear you right because we spent nearly our entire lives doing just the opposite!”

“Bucky,” Steve sighed. “It’s my public persona. Captain America is supposed to be a man with a ticking soul implant. They’re trying to build a tragic, attainable hero…They don’t want any rumors getting out that I’m taken and – and taken by…”

“By a man,” Bucky finished with a growl. He could not believe Steve agreed to it in the first place. They were never ashamed of who they were and had survived years of abuse for it.

“Buck, the men who gave me this costume, who created this story, they did not give me a choice. It was either stay stateside and be poked and prodded or go on tour with the USO as Captain America and eventually get to you…I don’t regret it. If I hadn’t lied, I would never have gotten to you and if you had remained on that operating table…”

He let the statement hang but the idea behind it was easily read. Bucky shivered as he remembered the painful injections. He noticed no effects to his person since then. He was not any stronger and he did not lose his face in place of a red skull. Whatever they did, it must have not worked.

“We don’t have to hide it from the team I’m putting together,” Steve whispered, pulling Bucky into his arms. Bucky stood defiantly in his hold and stubbornly crossed his arms across his chest instead of returning Steve’s embrace. Steve continued, “And we will sleep together and share a tent or room, wherever we may be.”

Bucky frowned at nothing in particular then sighed heavily and leaned into Steve. He stated, “Fine, but I better not be written off as a dopey sidekick in those damn comics.”

\---

The Howling Commandos were formed in a pub with an unhealthy amount of alcohol and Steve doubted the comic book makers would publish it as such. They all were Bucky’s friends from the 107th. They were good men and knew all about Steve and Bucky’s relationship, in fact, some of them were there for Bucky when he thought Steve was dead. He could not think of any better men to fight alongside.

Steve opened a tab for his new team then returned to Bucky’s side at the bar.

“See I told you. They’re all idiots,” Bucky said with a crooked smile.

“How about you? Are you ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” Steve teased, bumping into Bucky flirtatiously.

“Hell no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I’m following him…,” Bucky said and lightly bumped him back with his elbow. Steve smiled warmly at Bucky as a happy compression pressed down on his heart. Bucky leaned in and lightly caressed his arm as he whispered, “But you’re keeping the outfit right?”

Originally, he did not like it with its very noticeable, bright colors but, the way it made Bucky’s eyes light up changed everything. His husband was especially fond of stripping the uniform off Steve and, upon that thought, Steve said, “You know what, it’s starting to grow on me.”

Bucky’s smirk was coupled with dark eyes, already shedding him of his boring old tan, army uniform. They were not supposed to draw attention to themselves but Steve could not help but take Bucky’s left hand and draw circles into his palm, his finger bumping into his wedding band along the way. Bucky smiled sweetly at him then grasped Steve’s hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss his wedding band. Steve was not in his superhero uniform and no one knew Steve Rogers was Captain America. The bartender gave them odd looks but everyone else ignored them.

“I will follow you to the ends of the Earth,” Bucky promised.

“To the end of the line,” Steve corrected him, loving the statement Bucky had made almost half a year prior.

“To the end of the line,” Bucky agreed with a wily grin.

\---

Bucky did not know how, but somehow, Steve had been able to memorize where nearly all the Hydra bases were after glancing at a map _just once_. They were spread all across Europe. This led to the Howling Commandos’ main mission: to destroy all the bases.

Luck always seemed to be on their side and they were always one step ahead of Schmidt, the man Bucky insistently called the Red Skull (with _very_ good reason). They destroyed the bases and apprehended the Hydra soldiers that survived. None of them were a match for Captain America and his Howling Commandoes.

As they traveled, Bucky felt like he was falling in love with his husband all over again. As they spent so much time working in the field, they both discovered new sides to each other. Steve led the team bravely. He showed a talent for leadership and had a charisma that drew everyone to him. He was brave and daring and a figure everyone looked up to.

Before the war, the trust they had was infinitesimal compared what they had now. Steve literally put his life in Bucky’s hands as Bucky guarded him with only the barrel of his scope as his line of sight. He had lost count the number of times he had saved Steve’s life.

They were each other’s second pair of eyes and Bucky always found himself checking the perimeter around him and Steve, even when they were safely on base.

Steve had insisted on carrying around Bucky’s photo in his compass’s shield which made Bucky tease him every time he saw it. He secretly loved it and kept Steve’s picture in his breast pocket, over his heart, but he would never admit to it.

They were always on the move but Steve kept his promise. They never left each other’s side and fell asleep in each other’s arms every night. Some nights they huddled together in the same sleeping bag on top of snow and used each other’s bodies for warmth. Or they slept in a huge, complimentary hotel room with a fluffy mattress and a fireplace roaring with wild flames. Those nights they did not need to concern themselves with keeping warm and pursued other activities. Bucky liked those nights most.

They knew there was one more base left, but it had not been on the map Steve had seen, so they had no idea where it was. Once the rest of the bases were gone, they spent their time chasing down leads and destroying anything Hydra they came across.

Eventually, they got word that the pudgy man, Dr. Zola, was taking a train loaded with Hydra weapons to escape the Howling Commandoes’ vendetta. They formulated a plan to capture him and then acted on it.

Had Bucky known the sacrifices it would require, he would have told Steve to let the doctor to scurry away like the mouse he was.

The landing on the train was flawless but the rest of the plan totally dissolved once he and Steve were separated. When Steve eventually returned to his side, he thought everything would be alright and the plan would fall back into place.

Without any warning, Steve shoved Bucky behind him and deflected the shot of blue ray from a Hydra agent’s gun. The impact from the powerful weapon sent Steve, Bucky, and the shield flying across the train. A huge hole ripped into the side of the train where the blast exited and Steve landed right beside it, making Bucky’s heart clench in his chest. Steve was too close to the edge and was even closer to death than Bucky ever seen.

The Hydra agent raised his mighty weapon and Bucky scrambled to his feet. He hefted Steve’s shield up and shot at their enemy, hoping it would give Steve enough time to get away from the vicarious edge.

The Hydra agent shot the shield and for a second time Bucky was lifted off his feet and was flying through the air. As soon as he felt the cold air, he knew where he was and he swung his arms around wildly. He caught onto railing on the remains of the train’s wall, hanging outside the train.

He heard Steve’s shield clank loudly as he took care of the agent then he appeared in the hole. He looked wild with worry but relaxed as soon as he saw Bucky.

“Bucky!” Steve gasped and he jumped onto the remains of the wall. “Hang on!” He reached to Bucky and yelled, “Grab my hand!” Bucky reached out to him. He was already thinking of a sarcastic retort to say to him as soon as Steve pulled him safely in but he was never going to get the chance to say it.

The railing beneath him shifted a centimeter and Steve’s eyes widened a fraction as Bucky fell slightly. Bucky was about to jokingly tell him to hurry up when the railing totally collapsed, and he fell.

Bucky and Steve screamed together. But the train drew Steve and his shriek of despair away from Bucky, leaving Bucky falling and alone.

Bucky uselessly fought at the air that tore at his clothes and his heart pounded loudly in his ears. This could not be happening. He could not die. Not now! _Not like that_ and in front of Steve no less!

The ground was racing to meet him and he was running out of time. He looked wildly around him, in his state, he crazily half hoped he would see a parachute falling with him.

Instead, he saw the cliff that the train was driving across was close enough for him to reach out to.

Bucky instantly reached out but because of his body’s inertia, his fingers broke under the forceful velocity of his fall. Bucky yelled out in pain and clutched his hand close to his chest. He did not look, but guessed at least three fingers snapped and he felt his wedding ring nearly fall off in his finger’s new shape. Bucky pushed through the pain and made himself look back to the cliff. He saw a crevice coming up, deep and narrow enough for his arm. His broken fingers throbbed in protest but Bucky ignored it and drew his broken limb away from his chest.

He gritted his teeth and threw his arm out just as he came level with the crack in the side of the cliff.

His arm caught and his body slammed into the side of the cliff. He instantly had the breath knocked out of him in a great expenditure of air. His arm promptly broke upon impact but his body kept sliding down the crevice until he reached its end. The crevice meandered and his arm broke again and again as his body’s weight forced it through spaces not meant for straight bones. The pointed end of the crevice sliced into his flesh and Bucky felt his arm lax as his muscles were severed.

Needless to say, he screamed the entire way down.

Once he was able to breathe again, Bucky did so with painful gasps. He cursed and punched the cliff side to try to distract himself from the pain. For several long seconds, his entire body weight hung off the cliff’s side via his broken arm. He told himself he could stand the pain because it meant he was alive. But no matter how many times he told himself it did not lessen the agony anymore.

His bones loudly popped as they totally separated and, for a moment, Bucky teetered on the edge of unconsciousness and black stars danced before his eyes. He felt his skin stretch under his weight then, to his horror, begin to tear. His body began to slip down of its own volition.

“Oh God, no, no, no, no” he gasped. He tried to reach up with his right arm to give his broken left arm support but, by the way he was hanging, he could just barely touch his left shoulder. His own body weight worked against him and his skin and muscles tore with no more support from his connected bones.

The pain was worse than the injection Dr. Zola had given him. In those few seconds, he wished he fallen to his death, at least then his death would have been instant and quick.

When his arm was finally ripped from his body, Bucky found himself falling again. This time he did not flail his limbs wildly around him, instead he was limp and watched his bright red blood arch above him in a graceful spray.

He did not fall far and nothing more broke upon his impact. He landed on the edge of a river and the cold water pooled around him. His body was brimming with pain but the cold worked quickly, numbing him to it.

“Steve,” he whispered his husband’s name pathetically. Yet Steve and the train were long gone. Bucky looked down and saw his left arm was truly gone and, with it, his soul implant. Steve would not go looking for him, he would think Bucky dead.

His heart constricted painfully in his chest as he imagined Steve thinking he was gone.

In the distance, he could hear German voices yelling and coming closer.

“Steve,” Bucky called out uselessly. He had to tell him he was alive.

Chunks of ice lightly tapped his body and the crystal clear water of the river clouded red around him in a silky aura. His first regrets were not of dying or the loss of his implant…but of never again being able to run the left fingers of his hand through Steve’s soft hair again.

His next thoughts were of how inane his prior thoughts were. Surviving was more important than caressing Steve.

Three forms suddenly stood over him and grunted something to him in German.

“Steve,” Bucky whispered, his eyelids growing heavy.

Just as everything was growing hazy, he felt them bound his arm tightly. He heard a metallic click and knew it had to be done with one of their belts. They begin to drag him and he knew he was going to live but as their prisoner. Despite his body’s condition and the fact that he was in the hands of the Germans, all he could think of was Steve and his zeroed out soul implant.

\---

Steve knew the exact moment Bucky hit the ground because his soul implant let off a high-pitched beep before resetting itself.

Steve slowly pulled himself back into the train then sat himself against the far wall. He stared at the hole Bucky had fallen through and was unable to process anything more than the fact his soul implant had reset. His mind could not handle the circumstances that followed the reset of a soul implant. He could never imagine a world without Bucky. It was not possible. So, instead, he sat down and stared blankly at the icy horizon as is flew by.

Eventually, the train crawled to a stop and Gabe looked for them. He found Steve sitting alone in the train car and asked, “Where’s Bucky?”

Steve’s brow pinched at the words but he did not let his mind contemplate the answer nor did he look away from the hole.

“Cap?”

Steve did not look away. The train was unmoving and the winter landscape was laid out before him like a fantastic painting waiting to be drawn. Instead of answering Gabe, he imagined where he would start on his painting…The mountains, most likely. He would sketch out their shape, leaving the minute details until the very end.

Gabe look from Steve to the hole the back to Steve again and his eyes widened. He gasped, “Did Bucky—?”

Steve closed his eyes and imagined Gabe was not there. It was the wrong move because as soon as Steve was alone in the darkness, he saw Bucky falling and reaching out to him. He snapped open his eyes with a hiss.

Gabe was kneeling in front of him. He whispered, “Steve, I am going to take your glove off.” When Steve gave no protest, Gabe reached forward and carefully took Steve’s left hand. He slid his red glove off just as carefully, exposing his wedding band and soul implant. Steve’s gaze instantly locked on his ring and he tried to imagine happier times…tried and failed that is…

Gabe cursed under his breath and Steve finally looked at his implant. As his eyes focused on the zeros he felt a part of himself die.

\---

Steve tried to get drunk but his metabolism burned so high that he burned it off before it had any effect on him. Was it too much to ask for a moment to escape? Whenever he closed his eyes to sleep, Bucky was falling into a dark abyss and Steve woke screaming out to his lost mate.

Every waking moment, was spent thinking about Bucky and remembering the distance of his outstretched hand.

Mere centimeters had separated them.

Steve should have moved faster. He could have saved him. Bucky could still be alive.

Steve angrily threw the glass of alcohol across the room and it shattered into millions of tiny shards. He glared at nothing in particular, his face had hardened since Bucky’s fall. A crease had formed on his brow that would not flatten and his jaw became ridged and taunt from his teeth clenched into an endless frown.

Peggy stepped out of the shadows and gently grasped Steve’s shoulder. He had heard her slip in a few minutes earlier but did not acknowledge her presence in favor of his own dark thoughts.

“I can’t get drunk,” Steve murmured sadly.

“Your metabolism burns four times faster than the average person,” Peggy stated.

Steve’s head dropped and he peered sadly at his soul implant. He traced the edges of the implant as the zeroes burned into his corneas, mocking him with their corresponding oval shapes.

“Steve –,” Peggy began.

“Don’t,” Steve gritted, his head falling forward more and his fingers dug into the flesh around his implant. He hated those zeroes – _hated_ them so much.

“But Steve –,” Peggy tried again.

Steve interrupted her again, only this time he did not need to open his mouth. He did what he had been wanting to do since the implant beeped upon Bucky’s death and tore it out of his flesh. He slammed the device into the table and it shattered beneath his palm.

The implant ripped a fistful of flesh out of his arm and he instantly began to bleed heavily. His hand went numb as it lost blood flow. Steve lay his arm on the table and made no move to stop the bleeding. A wound that would have normally taken days if not weeks to heal, did so in minutes for Steve.

Peggy regarded it all silently and sat next to Steve. She stared at him and Steve glared at the empty chair across from him.

Eventually, she quietly said, “No one would fault you for taking the pill, Steve. You lost your soul mate and he died in front of you…No one should go through such horrors…”

The pill she was talking about was the suicide pill offered to all who lost a soul mate. Steve inhaled sharply and let himself want it for a few seconds. He smothered it just as quickly.

“Bucky would never let me live it down if I pulled out now,” Steve whispered. “…And it goes against everything we believed in. I’m not going to stop until all of Hydra is dead or captured. I need to fight this war…I need to defeat Red Skull… I need to get revenge for my husband…and then—then I will spend the rest of my life fighting for a better world as Captain America.”

“…And Steve Rogers? Bucky’s husband? What about him?” Peggy asked.

“Steve Rogers died.” He glanced sadly at Peggy and whispered. “Bucky was my soul mate, Peggy. Our souls are one. When he died, I died with him. Steve Rogers is no more. The man before you is only Captain America…” Steve picked up an empty glass and murmured, “Tonight is Steve and Bucky’s funeral reception. Take a shot in memory, Peggy. Someone should be able to get drunk.”

Peggy looked at him with pity then whispered, “I’ll get a new bottle.”

Steve grinned without humor and stated, “Cheers.”

\---

As Steve’s plane plummeted, he could not help remember his conversation with Peggy. He no longer had control of his fate and his clenched jaw finally relaxed. Captain America preformed his duty and could do no more.

“I’m coming, jerk,” Steve murmured affectionately to his husband and a tiny smile tugged at his lips.

He closed his eyes and saw Bucky. It was not the Bucky who had been plaguing his nightmares as he fell to his death. This Bucky was laid next to him on soft white sheets. His skin was luminescent and his dark blue eyes lovingly gazed at Steve.

Bucky whispered, “I missed you, punk.”

Steve’s smile widened at the imagining and the plane exploded around him.

\---

Bucky woke as they cut into his arm. Bucky screamed and swung wildly at whoever was hurting him. He hit a man and he went flying across room. Bucky was immediately thrown down by two men in German uniforms. They yelled indiscriminately at him, making no sense in their guttural language.

“Let me go!” Bucky roared and bucked his body. His head spun from blood loss and his vision blurred. He felt his hot blood flowing down his side but did not care. He was in the hands of the enemy but, more importantly, Steve thought him dead.

They easily overpowered Bucky in his weakened state. They strapped down his limbs, including what was left of his left arm. Bucky groaned as the straps cut into his inflamed flesh.

“You vant die or live?” The man Bucky hit stumbled to his feet and glared at Bucky. His English was broken and heavily accented but Bucky was able to understand his words. In his hands, he clutched a bloody scalpel.

“What are you going to do to me?” Bucky hissed.

“I stop bleeding,” the man retorted pointing to Bucky’s stump.

“By cutting me??”

“Too much expose muscle,” the doctor explained. “Not enough skin. I cut away muscle to seal skin.”

Bucky's stomach rolled at the thought of losing more of himself but he had seen enough battlefield amputations to know it was what this doctor needed to do. But why were they helping him?

Bucky asked, “And then?”

His “doctor” opened his mouth to reply but his eyes caught sight of something over Bucky’s shoulder and he was silenced. Another, familiar voice, began speaking in his place.

“And then...” The Red Skull stepped into Bucky’s vision and stated, “We will continue Dr. Zola’s program. He had grand visions for you, soldier. You are to become the first warrior in my elite army.”

Bucky shivered and felt like the skin around his skull tightened.

“You?” Bucky gasped. His shock gave way quickly and Bucky growled, “I will _never_ fight for you!”

The Red Skull grinned at Bucky, his skeletal smile filled with a malicious knowledge. He did not reply, he did not have to. His smile told Bucky he thought Bucky wrong…

The Red Skull left that same day, promising to destroy several major U.S. cities by the end of the week. He put Bucky in the care of General Vasily Karpov. The General was the Red Skull’s Russian ally and, a few days after they sealed his arm, they moved him to Moscow.

Bucky fought and tried to escape every moment. Karpov once let it slip that such feats by a man in his condition should have been impossible and Bucky could not help but wonder if it was because of the serum he was given when under Dr. Zola’s care.

It took them about a week to reach Moscow and, in that time, Bucky had managed to hit all his captors at least once and was able to run freely twice. He was given barely any pain medication and he was still weak from the massive blood loss but the thought of Steve energized and motivated him to do the impossible.

He was determined to get away, no matter the sacrifice. Karpov tried everything to stop him. He tortured Bucky, starved him, and told him slanderous lies about his country to try and turn him. Nothing deterred Bucky until…

They were in Moscow, Karpov had him tied down to a metal chair and was once again telling him lies about his country. Every time Bucky disagreed, he shocked him via electrodes attached to his temples.

After a few shocks, Bucky held back his retorts choosing to save his strength for another escape attempt…until Karpov mentioned Steve.

“And that Captain America,” the Russian chuckled. “Everyone thought he was the strongest – _heh_ – his accident clearly showed that he was not.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and he met Karpov’s gaze. He gasped, “What are you talking about?”

Karpov smirked and said, “We just got word…but it probably happened not long after we got you…You were on his howling team, correct?”

“ _What_ _happened_?” Bucky demanded, leaning forward and pulling at his bounds.

“Your great and indestructible Captain America is dead,” Karpov stated.

“No,” Bucky gasped, refusing to believe another of Karpov’s lies. The Russian spun enough lies to create a fantastic web.

“He killed the Red Skull then killed himself,” Karpov replied. “He crashed the Red Skull’s plane into the Atlantic. No one can find a trace of him. He is gone.”

“I don’t believe you. Steve would never kill himself. _Never_. He’s a fighter!”

“You knew him well?” Karpov asked, rubbing his chin with interest.

Bucky grinned and stated, “He’s my soul mate and we’ve been together since we were children. I know him better than myself. Just you watch, next week you’re going to be reading about Steve swimming home up the Hudson and I will be there waiting for him.”

“You sound so sure,” Karpov stated with a smirk that spoke volumes. The general was clearly holding back his laughter. Before Bucky could wipe that smirk off his face with a quick retort the Russian stood up sharply. Karpov clapped his shoulder and said, “I will be back. We will test your beliefs then go back to talking about the folly of Americans, yes?”

“Your folly maybe…” Bucky murmured and pulled lightly at his bonds, already planning his next escape attempt. Karpov’s lips twitched and Bucky suspected he was concealing another patronizing smirk.

Karpov left him alone and Bucky began tugging at his bonds with renewed vigor. He was so busy looking for the weak spots in his bonds, that he did not notice how long the general was gone until the room grew darker. Bucky grinned at the dimming light.

“Prove my folly, eh?” Bucky murmured sarcastically to the absent general. “Seems like proving me wrong is taking a _little_ while…” He had gotten his legs free and was still working on his arm. His stump was unbound, his captors mistake and Bucky’s gain. It was one less limb for him to free.

Karpov came in a minute later, as if he had heard Bucky’s mocking mutterings. A single eyebrow rose as he took in Bucky’s progress in escaping but he made no move to rebind him. Bucky opened his mouth to deliver his usual greeting insult to the general, instead his jaw dropped as Karpov held up an unused soul implant. Bucky’s mouth dried and his heartrate picked up as he stared at the tiny devise.

If they put that in his arm then Steve would know he was alive.

“If the Captain is truly your soul mate, is truly alive, and…” Karpov muffled a chuckle then stated, “ _And_ you are going to see him ‘next week,’ this will tell us.”

Bucky’s fingers tingled and he could have sworn he felt it in his missing left hand tingle too. He gritted his teeth and glared at the general.

“Do it,” he hissed, his heartrate picking up. He sat down and glared at Karpov. He could not wait to see the general’s face when the implant flashed with the short countdown to his and Steve’s reunion.

The general smirked his patronizing smile again then held the device level with his head. Bucky’s doctor appeared behind him and snatched it out of his grasp. He rounded Karpov then went to Bucky side and placed his med kit on Bucky’s lap.

Installing the soul implant was easy enough. The doctor only needed to make a small incision parallel with the main vein in Bucky’s arm that connected directly to the heart. This vein’s pulse was strong enough to run the implant and acted as a sort of bloody hydroelectric power source for it. The doctor needed to only place the implant over the incision and the device took care of the rest. Bucky bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from flinching as the implant’s gears imbedded themselves into his right arm and wrapped around his vein. The implant vibrated lightly making his skin prickle with unsettling goose bumps then it turned on with a light ding.

Zeroes flashed on the screen and Bucky patiently waited for his new countdown to appear.

But then the zeroes stopped flashing and remained on the screen.

Bucky felt his jaw drop a few centimeters.

No…Steve wouldn’t do that…He was so strong, stronger than Bucky ever could be and he was a hero – he wouldn’t – he couldn’t have…

Karpov returned to his seat across from Bucky and sardonically stated, “Now onto my favorite subject: American folly, a trait you so eloquently expressed. It is in your culture to think yourselves better and stronger but, the fact of the matter is, you are not…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will take a little longer to get out as I am taking a camping trip to Yosemite and going to Comic Con next week! So I'm going to be doing a lot of driving and am going to be pretty busy but I promise to post the next chapter as soon as possible! Once again, thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Next Time, Ch. 5: Rebirth


	5. Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I entitled this chapter "Rebirth" as it is mostly about how Bucky is reborn into the Winter Solider. The transition is not easy or pretty... That tag "pretty much every archive warning will be used" was posted mostly because of this chapter. There will be violence, character death, rape/non-con, and suicidal tendencies.

Bucky tried to kill himself the same day he found out Steve was dead. He had escaped his bonds and tried to throw himself out of a window but Karpov’s men stopped him before he could even break through the glass.

Bucky begged them to let him die as they dragged him back to his cell. The first time he should have died when he fell from the train. And then the second time he should have died was when Steve did.

Yet Karpov’s men laughed at him and left Bucky locked away but alive.

Time and its content were meaningless to Bucky without Steve’s heart beating in tandem with his own. He did not know how long he was in Karpov’s power. The Russian continued to batter at Bucky’s mind and body to “make him the perfect soldier.”

Solider for what exactly Bucky did not know…The Red Skull was gone and Bucky’s fate was now only know to his Russian captor and the man wasn’t talking.

His body became covered in scars from his constant torture. Before Steve’s death, Bucky’s vanity would have despaired at the shape his body was in but now he did not care. Why be vain when the man he loved was no longer there to see him?

The worst nights were when Karpov let his more malicious soldiers fuck him. They raped him over and over, taking his body, the body only meant for Steve, and abusing it for their own pleasure. They laughed at him, called this form of love animalistic, and showed him how animal they could be. They grunted like hungry pigs as they thrust into him and took sick joy in finding ways of making him become aroused. He hated his body for betraying him whenever it gave in and he ejaculated from their touches. He flinched from intimate touches and his precious memories of making love with Steve became tarnished by these men. He always sobbed after and begged Steve’s ghost for forgiveness.

They cut him, they broke his bones, they drowned him, and electrocuted him. They kept pushing him down – lower – making him less than human. Life became measured by pain and Karpov’s mercies.

A normal man would have died from the horrors…but Bucky was no longer normal…

He healed faster at an alarming rate. He did not notice it at first, because his tortures were daily so the pain was endless. One day he noted a burn on his arm looked like a birthmark Steve had, had on his arm too. It strangely made him sentimental and he hoped it would scar but the next day it was gone. After that, he paid attention to the wounds and noted it was only the ones Karpov inflicted systematically that seemed to scar. The others faded away as if the pain he felt never happened.

Bucky had long ago given up on being tough. He cried like a baby and screamed when he knew Karpov wanted him to. He stopped trying to fight back and escape. He let them destroy him and hoped he would die in the process. It was all Bucky had left at that point…to die.

But Karpov would not let him and everyday he lost more of himself.

With all the horrible things he went through, the worst part was the damage to his mind. Karpov words started to make him doubt things and his constant electrocutions to his skull were making his memory foggy.

He forgot about his early childhood first and with it his parents. School went next but Bucky did not really mind losing that portion of his life.

He forgot of life with two arms and stopped missing the ability to work with two hands.

He cried when he could not picture Sarah Roger’s face, the woman had raised him and was like second mother to him, the loss of her visage was horrible. Yet, not long after that, he could not remember her name and eventually he had no memory of her and stopped mourning her loss.

Bucky aggressively held onto all his memories of Steve. Whenever he felt them slipping he focused all that he was onto holding on to it. In the end, Bucky could barely remember who he once was but it did not matter because Steve still lived on in his mind. Bucky knew him to be his late husband but without any other memories to distract him, Steve became akin to a god in his mind. Bucky thought of his visage to escape the pain of his torture. When they raped him he called out to Steve and craved his gentle touch. Whenever he felt his most depressed, he immersed himself into the memory of his content feelings when sleeping the hold of Steve’s warm arms. He soon could never fall asleep without picturing Steve.

He did not know how much time had passed. Months? Years? It felt like endless centuries.

In the end, Karpov brought in scientists to perfect his brainwashing. They built a machine that strapped Bucky into a chair and attached a metallic helmet to his skull. Bucky compliantly sat in the chair. He had long ago forgotten his reason for fighting back and no longer had the will to attempt it.

He assumed it was a new device for Karpov to torture him with and he closed his eyes and slipped into a memory of Steve. In the memory, Bucky had been laying down on his back and Steve hovered over him. Steve was smiling serenely at Bucky and was lightly caressing the side of Bucky’s face. Bucky’s shoulders relaxed as he was comforted by Steve’s memory.

Outside of the memory, in the real world, they shoved something in Bucky’s mouth and then stepped away from him.

The electric current they shocked him with was sharper and cut more deeply than any of Karpov’s electrodes. In his memory, Steve’s image froze and then split in half. Bucky stared up at him aghast and desperately touched Steve’s fractured face. Steve crumbled beneath his fingers and in his place there was only blackness. In a matter of seconds, the memory was gone and Bucky was alone in the dark. In the back of his mind, he felt more memories slip away. Bucky scrambled to save them but when he protected one memory two others were destroyed in its place.

He was only attached to the machine for thirty seconds but years of memories of Steve were torn from him. When they removed him from the machine Bucky was shuddering violently and hyperventilating deeply. Karpov came into his line of vision and Bucky broke away from the hands that pulled him from the machine.

Bucky tightly grasped Karpov’s trousers with his single hand and begged, “Please. _I will do anything_. I will be your soldier. I will fight for you without complaint. Just don’t take him away. Don’t take Steve from me. He’s the only thing that keeps me sane! My memories are all I have left of him, _please_!”

Hands grasped Bucky from behind and tore him away from the general. Karpov bent down and patted down his trousers to get rid of the creases Bucky’s grasp had created. He spared Bucky only a fleeting glance then looked to the people holding Bucky.

“Congratulations. It worked. When can he can go in again?”

Bucky felt like he was going to be sick and pitifully gasped again, “ _Please_.”

“Tomorrow. If we try any sooner his mind maybe damaged beyond repair.”

Bucky immediately contemplated escaping. He had not tried it in such a long time that Karpov had relaxed security around him. Bucky did not remember his prior escapes but he knew it was his only option now. It was that or loose Steve.

Bucky tried to shoot to his feet but his legs wobbled beneath him and he fell. He swung his arms forward to catch his fall, but he forgot his left arm was gone and fell painfully on his left side.

Karpov stepped up to him and Bucky shakily looked up to the tall Russian. Karpov stated, “You will not escape, soldier. Once your sanity is gone, your mind will be mine to mold.”

\---

The Soldier lost his name before he lost his husband.

He did not know the blond man’s name but he associated with warmth and a positive emotion he could not categorize. The one vivid memory he had of the blond man was him laying by his side on a roof of an unknown building. They were younger and had been watching the stars and holding each other for warmth.

“I would follow you anywhere,” the Soldier had promised the blond man.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” his husband had teased with a wily smile that had made the Soldier’s heart flutter. The Soldier would obey his master in all matters except this. If the Soldier ever found the blond man he would follow him and abandon whatever mission given to him.

The Solider had long ago stopped begging his master to stop taking pieces of his husband away but he kept silent about remained. In the deepest corners of his heart, he hoped they would stop putting him in the machine and breaking away the blond man.

Those hopes were made in vain.

Once the Soldier was completely void of his past, his master began the steps to rebuild him.

Firstly, he was given a new arm. Rebuilding the appendage was painful but the Soldier remained compliant and only moved when it was commanded of him. They attached it to his bones, muscles, and nerves and kept him awake during the ten hour procedure to make sure everything was attached correctly. His throat was raw from his screams but he never pulled away from the doctors.

It took many weeks to create the limb and just as much time for them to calibrate it and for him to learn how to use it. They gave him injections too. Most were to help him fight infection but others were to make him stronger, faster…They called him a super soldier and the term made the Soldier’s stomach lurch.

They taught him Russian and refused to speak to him in the default language the Soldier possessed. The Soldier grasped the language quickly as he already had a rudimentary knowledge of it.

With the metal limb, he was put through the rigors of learning the art of assassination. He mastered the skills fast and was especially adept as a sniper. When he learned all he could, they gave him the title “Winter Soldier” and sent him to work.

He never missed a target and quickly became the Russian government’s go-to man in murder.

They tried to get him into espionage as well and, at first, he did well. He was able to form no attachments to the people he betrayed and was quick to pick up languages.

He had been commanded to sleep with a woman for information and got as far as the bed before he broke. He did not know why but he started to cry and kept saying “Sorry” in English. Sleeping with the woman felt wrong, like he was betraying someone more important than his master which was ridiculous because no one was more important than his master.

The target, a Russian diplomat, ran, thinking him an American spy.

The Soldier ran after the target and killed her with tears still streaming down his eyes.

He reported his failure to his master and was pulled out immediately. They wiped his mind and he never returned to spying and returned to assassinations.

For a few years, the Soldier worked in a detached state and was merciless with his targets. Eventually, they retired him to a cryogenic coffin and he went without complaint.

\---

Before each freezing, they erased him to keep his knowledge limited just in case he was ever captured. His body retained knowledge of his training but he did not know how many times he had used such knowledge to kill or who he had killed. The Soldier also had no way of knowing how many times he had been frozen. Nor did he have any way of knowing how many masters he had.

It never crossed his mind to do other than what he was commanded…until that day.

It was 1982 and he had been sent to New York City to kill a United States senator. The Soldier was scooping out the city on foot but stopped upon seeing a red, white, and blue visage at a newsstand.

It was not unusual to see these three colors grouped together in this country. Americans had a strange love affair with their nation’s flag and the Star - Spangled Banner could be seen hanging off nearly every other building. It was displayed everywhere with pride and its primary colors made it eye-catching against the grey of the city’s buildings. But these colors that stopped the Solider were not on a flag but were draped over a man in uniform on the cover of a child’s comic.

The Soldier did not know why but he dug his wallet out of his pocket and used his master’s money to buy the comic. He walked away from the newsstand, not looking where he was going, as he stared at man on the cover.

Captain America. He read the title without recognition.

He went down an alley and, without warning, fell into a dumpster. He slid along its greasy side and slowly fell to his knees.

His head was suddenly pounding.

He looked at the dirty ground and remembered being this close to soiled ground before.

It felt like someone suddenly stabbed a huge blade into his skull as he relived being thrown to the ground and half a dozen boys pounding into him.

The Soldier…no, Bucky…His name was Bucky. _BUCKY_ had fought back. He was determined to meet his soul mate, to meet… His mind fast-forwarded through the memory and focused on the tiny, blond boy who appeared past the alcove of the wall.

Bucky clutched the comic tightly.

 _Steve_ , how could he forget him?

He looked down at the comic and another memory flashed though his mind. Steve, older, larger, wearing the same uniform as the superhero on the comic.

His past self was stretched out across a bed, naked, and aroused. He was staring at Steve with hungry eyes, waiting for him to come to him. Steve was slowly striping the uniform off his body and was smiling at Bucky. Steve; too was aroused and Bucky was already planning to pay particular attention to Steve’s arousal with his mouth.

Bucky grasped his left arm, remembering the blank soul implant that had once been imbedded in the flesh. His touch only met the hard metal of his robotic arm. Bucky slowly pulled back his hand then rolled up the sleeve on his right arm. The soul implant there was zeroed out. His master never explained its purpose to Bucky and he had mostly ignored it. Now its presence pained his heart.

He could not remember more than meeting the young Steve in an alley and that he had grown up to be Captain America and he once shared Bucky’s bed. Yet Bucky instantly yearned for this stranger and mourned his loss.

He did not know his last name but Bucky knew they met down an alley similar to the one he was in and Steve was the superhero in the comic he held. Bucky ripped open the comic in his hands and greedily read it.

The comic was about the Captain finding and arresting Russian spies in a bakery. It gave Bucky no clue to Steve’s identity and did not once mention the superhero’s secret identity. Bucky pushed himself up and crept to the edge of the alley. He watched the newspaper stand and waited until a child bought the same comic he had. He followed the boy until he was sure he was alone then approached him.

“Hey, kid.” The boy came to a stop and looked curiously at Bucky. Bucky knelt to his level and asked, “Do you read that comic often?”

The boy glanced at the comic then back to Bucky and murmured, “Yes.”

Bucky held out a wad of bills and said, “Tell me everything you know about Captain America and this is yours.”

The boy’s eyes grew large and he nodded eagerly.

They sat down at an empty stoop and the boy told Bucky about Captain America. The real one was a man who was once so weak he could not fight in a war. But he was given a serum and he gained strength and became a superhero. He fought in World War II and defeated Hitler but had died, saving New York from total destruction. Since then, other fictional supermen had taken up the mantel of Captain America and worked to help the United States in the subterfuge of the Cold War and villains from outer space.

Bucky wordlessly handed the boy the money and he ran off.

Bucky absorbed the information slowly and stayed sitting on the stoop, staring out at the traffic that drove by.

Steve was truly dead and had been nearly forty years.

Bucky wondered if he had a grave…Then he wondered who Steve truly was. What had happened after they met as children? When did they become lovers? And…He suddenly felt shocked he did not realize this sooner.

As a child, the children who beat him had yelled at him in English.

Steve was Captain _America_.

…Was Bucky…an American?

Was that why he could speak with a perfect American accent?

_Why was he Russia’s Winter Soldier?_

He glanced around him nervously as if expecting his master to appear and punish him for not obeying orders. Bucky frowned and wondered if he should be obeying orders.

Bucky stood and stepped away from the stoop. He walked around for a while, lost in thought and wondering what to do.

When he came across the New York Public Library, he was inspired. Bucky was an uncommon name. If he had been with Steve when he was Captain America there was bound to be records. He ran past the two giant stone lions and into their den of knowledge. He went straight to the librarian and asked for her help.

The older woman never heard of a “Bucky” in reference to Captain America but she directed him to the history books. There were dozens of texts on Captain America and Bucky attempted to read every single one of them.

When it came time for the library to close, Bucky easily evaded the librarian as she checked the stacks. She locked up the library with Bucky still inside and he went back to reading. He had been trained to stay up for days at a time and planned to do just that to finish all he could.

When darkness fell, Bucky suddenly felt time slipping rapidly from him. He was supposed to check in with his handler tonight. They will give him twenty-four hours but once those hours were up they would look for him. Bucky needed to find the truth before they found him.

The texts summarized basically what the boy had told him. Captain America had fought in World War II. He did not defeat Hitler per say but Hydra, a strong branch of the Nazi party. The Captain had originally been a part of the USO but had later formed a group a fighters called the Howling Commandos. None of the texts mentioned who Captain America was or a man named Steve. But the texts also said Captain America’s identity was kept a secret on the behest of his loved ones. They also had said that Captain America had died without finding his soul mate and Bucky darkly wondered if this was true. Could he have misremembered being linked to Steve in such a way? Were they only lovers, not soul mates?

In one book, he came across a text listing off the members’ names from the Howling Commandos and Bucky copied them all down in alphabetical order: James Barnes, Jacques Dernier, Timothy Dugan, Montgomery Falsworth, Gabriel Jones, and Jim Morita.

He read more from this passage then crossed off Barnes, Falsworth, and Morita’s names. Those three men were listed as being “Deceased.” That left Bucky with Jacques Dernier, Timothy Dugan, and Gabriel Jones. If they were still alive and if Bucky could find them, they might be able to help him remember who Steve and Bucky were.

Bucky continued reading until the library opened and then left, stealing the few remaining texts he had yet to read.

He went to the nearest phone booth and grabbed the giant directory hanging beneath the phone. He looked for the men in alphabetical order.

There were no Jacques Dernier in the phone book.

Bucky cursed under his breath but moved onto the next man.

He found Timothy Dugan, to be more specific, he found over thirty Tim/Timothy Dugans in the city. Bucky ripped out the pages containing the names, phone numbers, and, in some cases, addresses, then moved on to the next name.

There was only one Gabriel Jones.

The breath caught in Bucky’s throat and he knew which member of the Howling Commandos he was going to check on first. Bucky opened his wallet and slid a quarter into the payphone in front of him. He dialed the number and held the phone up to his ear.

“Jones’s residence,” a little boy’s voice answered, his voice lisping on the ending of the last name.

“Is Gabriel Jones available?” Bucky asked.

“Yah, one sec,’” the boy replied. Bucky heard him call out, “ _Grandpa_! Phone’s for you!”

“Who is it?” An older man called out in reply. His voice at a much lower frequency because of his distance from the phone’s speaker but by his tone Bucky could tell the older man had yelled in response.

“I don’ know,” the boy yelled in response and Bucky heard the boy’s grandfather grumble in the background. The grumbling grew louder until…

“Hello? It’s Gabe, who is this?”

“….Is this the Gabriel Jones who was a part of the Howling Commandos?”

The line fell silent on the other end and Bucky patiently waited. Eventually, the older man asked, “Who is this? Is this a reporter? I am not interested in talking about my time fighting with the Commandos or the Captain.”

“…Does the name Bucky mean anything to you?” Bucky asked.

“Look, bud. I told you, I am not interested in talking about the Commandos.”

“Was he in the Commandos?” Bucky gasped.

“…Yes, who is this? How do you not know about Bucky? He was Cap’s right-hand man, are you really a reporter?”

“I am not a reporter,” Bucky clarified. He stated, “I have been researching the Commandos but saw no name listed as Bucky. Was it a pseudonym or a nickname?”

“Look son, you clearly have not been researching too well. ‘Bucky’ was short for Buchanan as in James Buchanan Barnes. I thought it was common knowledge, heck, it’s what he’s called in the comic books!”

“James Barnes,” Bucky whispered the name but felt no connection with it. Supposedly, he was killed in action. Bucky asked, “How did he die?”

“…Son, all you want is a history lesson on Bucky? There are probably a good number of books in the library that can tell you more than me and it will be less of an inconvenience on my part…”

“The books don’t mention a ‘Bucky’ or Steve,” Bucky replied.

The line fell silent again then Gabe demanded, “…Who is this?”

“A dead man,” Bucky replied, thinking of the word “deceased” by James Barnes’ name.

“…This is no joke. Those men were my friends and saved my life many times. _Who is_ _this_? What do you want??”

“…I just want to know who they were,” Bucky replied. He doubted the man on the other side of the line would believe him if he said he was James Barnes. Bucky himself was not yet sold on the fact.

“That is a state secret, son and I need to know exactly where you heard the name ‘Steve’ right now.”

“I told you already…I’m a dead man. If you met me I don’t think you’d be unwilling to tell me and maybe you’ll understand why I know Steve’s name. Please, I just need to know.”

“Where are you?” Gabe growled.

“At a payphone, outside of the New York Public Library,” Bucky replied immediately.

“…I’ll be there in an hour. I will meet you in front of the building.”

“I will be the one wearing a leather jacket,” Bucky replied.

The phone hung up and Bucky folded the names of Timothy Dugan and slipped them into his pocket. If need be, he would call all the names until he found the correct Dugan.

Bucky leaned against the base of the left lion that kept guard over the library and waited.

He had no idea what Gabe would look like other than he had to be a man in his sixties at least. Bucky studied all the old men who walked by but none approached him.

“Bucky?”

Bucky met the eyes of an older man with greying hair, brown eyes, and a thin mustache. He was well-dressed and was obviously wealthy. He was flanked by two undercover agents who also had hidden weapons on their person.

Bucky straightened and narrowed his eyes. The man was the right age but Gabriel Jones’ voice was a rough baritone. This man’s voice was much softer. Bucky guessed, “I assume I won’t be seeing Gabriel Jones.”

The man replied but he did not answer his question. He gasped, “He called me – us. My God, Bucky. How – you-you’re so young.”

Bucky regarded the people before him warily. Did they know he was the Winter Soldier or did they only know of “Bucky?”

Either way he was going to have his questions answered.

He demanded, “Was Steve Captain America?”

“…You don’t remember? It’s me, Howard, Howard Stark. Do you not remember me?” He stepped toward him his voice rising with sympathy. Bucky stepped up a stair, keeping the distance between them unchanging.

He repeated, “Was Steve Captain America?”

“Yes,” he replied in a whisper and took another step forward. Bucky took another step back.

He asked, “And I am Bucky? James Barnes?”

“Yes,” he replied. “What happened to you?”

“Were we soul mates?” Bucky demanded, ignoring his question. “Me and Steve?”

Stark glanced at the men behind him then stepped closer and whispered, “Yes, yes you were. Heck, I was one of the few who knew. I helped Steve get to you at that Hydra base…remember?”

Bucky nodded, glad to have it confirmed. He ignored Stark’s question and lastly asked, “What was Steve’s last name?”

“Rogers,” Stark replied. “His full name was Steven Grant Rogers.”

Bucky nodded then turned around and went rapidly up the remaining stairs.

“Wait!” He heard Stark follow him, his expensive shoes tapping the stone steps sharply as he followed him in a dash. Bucky spun around, drew his gun out of his jacket, and pointed it at the older man.

“Do not follow me,” Bucky hissed. Stark’s face greyed and he jolted to a stop. The men behind him withdrew their guns and pointed them at Bucky.

“PUT DOWN THE WEAPON!” One yelled and the crowded block suddenly was filled with screams as the public ran from the area.

“Do not follow,” Bucky repeated and ran. He moved quickly, more quickly than a normal man. The agents shot after him but their reflexes were too slow.

Bucky ran until he could no longer hear the screams or sirens.

Steve was dead so Bucky could not check the phone book. Instead, he broke into city hall after it had closed and found his birth records. They were filed with his death certificate which led Bucky to Steve’s grave.

It had to contain an empty coffin but Bucky imagined Steve’s friends buying the plot for them to visit.

He was not expecting to find his grave shared with Steve’s.

Bucky’s name was on the right and Steve’s was on the left. According to the headstone, they were both born in 1920. Bucky was a few months older than Steve and he had “died” a week before Steve did. Inscribed into their headstone was:

Here lies two soul mates, torn from each other by war, may you find happiness in the next life. They will be missed.

Bucky stared at the headstone for a long time then lightly touched Steve’s name to make sure it was real. The marble stone was slick and cold beneath his touch but the inscription of Steve’s name revealed rougher stone within the groves of the letters.

Bucky leaned into Steve’s half of the grave, keeping his own half at his back. He traced the engraved letters to Steve’s name and wondered what the man was like. The grave was maintained and he wondered if Jones or Stark took care of it.

He only spent a few minutes with Steve’s grave before he felt a pinch at the back of his neck. He pulled the dart out of his neck and instantly felt drowsy.

Bucky’s handler walked up to him, flocked by over a dozen soldiers.

“You knew,” Bucky hissed in accusation.

“This isn’t the first time you regained your memory in New York. But it will be the last. New York is too much of a liability for you, soldier.”

Bucky snarled and tried to jump to his feet but collapsed under his weight. His eyes flickered as he fought the drugs but it was a losing battle.

“Sleep, soldier,” his handler commanded. “This time tomorrow you won’t remember any of this.”

Darkness claimed Bucky and when he reopened his eyes, days later, Bucky was gone.

The Soldier’s mind was blank again. The Soldier looked expectantly to his master and asked, “What is my mission?”

He was handed a list of names and his master commanded, “Make them look like accidents.”

The Soldier read off, “Howard Stark, Gabriel Jones, Timothy Du—.”

\---

Steve thought he was dreaming at first.

He was listening to the same Dodgers’ game he and Bucky went to before Bucky was shipped out to Italy. The world was black so it had to be a dream…that is, until he realized everything was black because his eyes were closed.

He cracked open his eyes and artificial light blinded him. He blinked back his vision a few times as he sat up.

He quickly knew the room he was in was not the hospital room it was meant to look like. The game playing on the radio was obviously a fake but the lights were also too bright and the sunlight streaming from the windows held no warmth. The sheets on his bed were _much_ softer than the regulation sheets the army hospitals used.

Then he felt _IT_ pulling at his skin.

A soul implant had been put into his arm and as soon as he noticed its weight Steve felt like his left arm became too heavy for his body. He looked down and when he saw the numbers he was instantly enraged.

This proved it. Whoever had him was trying to trick him.

He had a timer counting down two and a half years.

Steve’s fists clenched just as his door opened.

The young woman, who stepped in, was dressed in an army uniform and she tried to convince him he was in a recovery room in New York.

Steve asked where he really was and the woman paled, confirming what he already knew. He was enemy hands.

She tried to tell him the lies again but Steve stopped her.

“I was at that game,” Steve said as he pointed to the radio. He then pointed to the soul implant on his arm and added with a growl,” I was at that game with _my mate_.”

“B-But y-you didn’t h-have one,” the woman gasped dumbly just as two armed men stepped into the room.

Steve raised his clenched fists and the soldiers and their guns stood no chance against him. He threw them through the wall and it gave way easier than he thought. He jumped out of the hole he had created and started to run as he heard the woman raise the alarm.

He assumed he was in a Hydra base but saw none of the telltale signs of the Nazi uniform and Hydra’s tentacled skull symbol. The suited people around him looked like they belonged on Wall Street. However, when the alarm was raised, the harmless looking businessmen surged upon him, drawing out guns and moving with trained efficiency.

The building was mostly made of glass and Steve easily found the exit by breaking through it and dodging the suits.

He ran out into crowded but recognizable streets. He was in New York. He was home.

He was being followed so he kept running. Yet as he ran, he began to notice strange things. The cars and taxis were longer and sleeker and the smell of their exhaust was not as strong. The people on the sidewalks were dressed oddly and in brighter clothes. Some of the women barely wore anything or their clothes were so tight that it left little for his imagination. Many were walking while looking at a small device or holding it up to their ears.

Then he reached Times Square and he knew this was not his home. The buildings were glowing and were covered in moving images. He stared dumbstruck up at it all.

That was when he was surrounded and Steve met Nick Fury and his entire world changed.

He was in shock so he did not really notice the SHIELD agents moving him back to their headquarters. Someone put a warm cup of coffee in his hands and he looked up, surprised to find himself in a tidy office. He was sitting on a couch between two large bookcases. On the other side of the room was a wall of windows overlooking the city, in front of it was a large desk, and in front of that was the thin man who had handed him the coffee.

“I’m Agent Coulson,” the man whispered. “I have been assigned to your case. We can start going over what’s happened the last seventy years but, in the meantime…Is there anything I can get you? Would you like some tea instead? Or perhaps some food? Would you like me to get your friends’ records...to see who is still alive? Or –?”

“Just tell me if this is real,” Steve whispered, nodding to the soul implant. He refused to look at it as if doing so would betray Bucky.

Coulson looked down at his arm sadly and whispered, “We thought you had lost your soul implant in the crash, that’s why we replaced it…and all our records showed you did not have a mate.”

“It can’t be real,” Steve whispered, not wanting the agent to say it even though he asked him.

“It is, Captain,” Coulson sympathized. “It’s rare to have a second soul mate but…you are one of the lucky few.”

“ _Lucky_ ,” Steve spat the word like it was acid. He sunk lower into the couch and explained, “My mate was Bucky, Sergeant James Barnes, and I could have saved him but instead I watched him die. There is nothing _lucky_ about it. There’s no luck to-to this.”

He motioned to his soul implant again but continued to refuse to look at it.

Steve expected scorn for admitting to being mated to another male. Instead, Coulson surprised him with pity.

“…From what I have read about the Sergeant, I can tell he was a very brave man. You were lucky to have him, Captain. Even if it was for the short time you had him.”

Steve ran his fingers over his wedding ring. It had been returned to him, along with his shield, and what was left of his uniform. He felt tears begin to well in his eyes but he made no move to smother them. He pathetically whispered with a bowed head, “It was too short…”

\---

The Soldier was woken in preparation for an alien attack. On the other side of the world, aliens called the Chitauri were attacking the United States. His master was calling in all his forces in case the aliens moved onto their country next.

They never came but in that short period he was awake, the Solider could not help but notice the implant on his right arm had a countdown.

He almost brought it to the attention of his master but held back. He reasoned his master had not commanded the Soldier to tell him so he did not need to. At the same time, the Soldier made sure to angle his arm so no one else would see the countdown.

He did not know why but for some reason he felt the need to protect this secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Chapter Six: Reunion (the boys reunite and there are sooo many feels)
> 
> Since I started writing this I kept telling myself to start posting things to tumblr and now I am finally going to start! I'm mostly going to be posting small excerpts from future chapters before actually posting them here (keep in mind I am writing two fics right now so there will be content from both of them [the other fic being Steve/Tony]). If you want to follow me on tumblr you can find me [here](http://il0vsuperman.tumblr.com)  
> Thanks again and the next chapter will be out in a week! (a teaser will be out on my tumblr in a couple days!) :D


	6. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much a fast-forwarded version of the second Cap movie. I do, however, change a lot of aspects as this is a Soul mate Au! If anything is too fast-forwardy or doesn't make sense let me know! Otherwise, enjoy the boys' tragic reunion. :)

There were moments Steve almost tore the soul implant out of his arm again but he always stopped himself. He hated the countdown and what it stood for. He could not imagine loving anyone other than Bucky…But in the back of his mind, in a place he would never acknowledge existed, a tiny sparkle of hope wondered if he could be happy with this person. But when his thoughts ever ventured to these notions they were usually quashed by memories of his late husband.

He mostly ignored that the soul implant existed and usually had it covered.

He kept his wedding ring on. He would never take it off.

It was horribly ironic to have woken up in this new age because, just as the world around him changed, as did its beliefs. Same sex soul mates were no longer looked upon as trash.

The first time he saw two men openly kiss each other in public, he almost cried.

Bucky would have loved it in this era.

The serum had enhanced Steve’s mind in addition to his body. So, even though he had only glanced at the implant on his arm a few times, he knew almost exactly what time it was at, at all times. He tried to ignore it at first but as time passed he could not help and pause to think: two years left; one year left; 6 months left; one month left; and then….

“One more week,” Natasha stated the words aloud. She had seen his timer. She knew the countdown as well as he did. She asked, “What do you think your mate will be like? Another man? Or maybe a woman this time?”

“I do not want to talk about it,” Steve gritted and spun his wedding band with his thumb.

“Well he or she is definitely thinking about you,” Natasha retorted. “Seriously, do you think they are going to be in the business?”

“The business?” Steve asked, finally looking at the shorter redhead.

“SHIELD,” she retorted. “The government, saving lives, you know, the business.”

Steve looked down at his ring and thought of how handsome Bucky had looked in his uniform. He whispered, “Bucky was in the business…”

“So would you prefer your new mate to be like your old?” Natasha asked with a single raised brow. Clint Barton was her mate and was also “in the business.” He currently was away on assignment and Steve wondered if she had hoped for her mate to be “in the business” before she met him in Budapest all those years ago.

Steve considered her question. He opened his mouth to reply but it hung open uselessly as no reply came to him. He closed his mouth and then opened it a second time as if the words would magically come to him yet they did not. He had no answer. He had no opinion.

Because, in the end, he wanted Bucky and he will always compare Bucky to this person whom he would be meeting in a week.

It did not seem like a happy life…

Steve was already dreading it.

Steve left Natasha and walked, planning to take a stroll to clear his head. The quick stroll turned into tour of D.C. The country’s capital was a bustling city. It had none of the many skyscrapers like New York did but it was just as crowded and busy. Tourists intermingled with senators on the sidewalks and everyone there seemed to be always moving.

Steve eventually found he had ventured to the only place in the entire city that seemed to hold any kind of semblance of normalcy, a museum, or to be more precise, an exhibit: The Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian.

It felt like he was stepping back in time but also in a new surreal world. Artifacts from his era were put on display. Little things, like sketches he had thrown away, were put on show under bright lights and were labeled with paragraphed descriptions. Steve found it all funny until he reached Bucky’s part in the exhibit.

Bucky was portrayed in the informative text as Steve’s best friend. Steve automatically touched his wedding band as he read the rest of the “historical” account. Bucky’s history was wrong but the large image they used in the depiction was really him and he was handsome. They chose well. Steve admired his late husband’s determined gaze and reminisced the feel of Bucky’s soft lips on his. Steve’s heart squeezed painfully as his grief surfaced with his memories. His grief had not lessened in the last two and a half years, he had only learned to manage it better over time.

He could function and put on an expression of being unaffected, but, on the inside, he was dying. Would life really be better with a new soul mate? He could not imagine being happy again…

When he had less than 24 hours to go, he felt like he was walking on pins and needles. He tried to stick to his routine but found himself constantly looking at his soul implant and jumping at the smallest motions.

He did not think it was possible to feel guilty and excited at the same time.

In the end, his guilt outweighed his excitement.

Instead of walking out on the streets, like a normal person would to bump into his or her soul mate, Steve decided to go home and lock himself in his apartment. He would let his counter die and the chances of another soul mate die with it.

 _Bucky_ was Steve’s soul mate and that was it.

He felt totally dejected as he walked down the hall to his empty apartment. His neighbor, Sharon, paused to say hi and ask him how his day went. Steve replied with a socially acceptable reply but he was internally nervous. His timer was about to go out and what if Sharon had company? What if that company also had a timer that was about to go off?

His fears were unfounded and he and Sharon parted, but not before she mentioned he left his music playing…which he did not.

Steve stepped lightly over to his door and pressed his ear to the wood. He indeed heard music playing inside. Steve suspiciously peered at his door then glanced at his arm. Five minutes. He could take care of the perpetrator before five minutes were up.

After quickly running outside, climbing up his fire escape, and slipping through his window, Steve slid into the room, grabbing his shield as he did, and found…Nick Fury?

He turned on a light and reassessed his first observation: a _bloody_ Nick Fury.

It was so abnormal that he totally forgot about his timer until…

He did not have a chance to question Fury. There was an explosion of gunfire, his windows shattered, and Nick fell to the floor with several more bloody patches of red blooming on his chests.

Steve ran to his side and knew that Fury’s wounds needed to be looked at ASAP.

“Trust no one,” Fury hissed, thrust a flash drive into Steve’s hands, and passed out. Steve looked at the flash drive, thousands of questions running through his head.

Sharon came running in a moment later with a gun drawn. Steve jumped to his feet, ready to attack, but she quickly explained she worked for SHIELD. Steve did not believe her until her eyes fell on Fury and she ignored the threat Steve posed and called in help for the Director.

Steve took his neighbor’s new identity in stride though his uneasy stomach rolled once more. SHIELD had been spying on him?

Steve stood and looked out his broken window to see if the enemy would come to finish the job.

He saw a glint of light reflecting off something metallic and then the shadow of a retreating figure. Clutching his shield, he jumped out his window and gave chase.

The man was fast but Steve was faster. When he was close enough, he threw his shield.

The would-be-assassin spun around and caught the shield in midair.

The assassin stared blankly at Steve and Steve stared blankly back. He had no idea what the assassin was thinking but Steve was shocked by the fact the man before him was still alive. No one had ever caught his shield before and the strength he used behind the throw should have severed the man’s arm. The stranger wore a mask but his eyes were exposed and were a hard dark blue that gave away no emotion.

Steve felt captured by this man’s eyes. He could not move nor look away.

It was at that moment their eyes locked that both their timers went off.

Steve grasped his arm in disbelief. In all the excitement, Steve had forgotten about his timer.

This masked man, _this_ _murderer_ , was his soul mate?

The stranger did not react to his timer going off, instead, he threw Steve’s shield back at him. His shield flew as fast and true as a bullet but Steve was able to catch it before it hit him. It distracted Steve long enough that the assassin made his escape. Steve made no move to follow and stared disbelievingly at the spot where his new soul mate had disappeared.

\---

The Soldier ran across rooftops, through dark alleys, and trudged through the thick slime of the sewers before he stopped.

The target had been hit and should bleed out in a matter of minutes. His mission was complete but…

The Soldier pulled back the sleeve of his Kevlar jacket and peered down at the mechanism in the flesh of his right arm. The last time he was unfrozen he had a countdown but now the screen was blank. He had been away maybe an hour at most so his master saw no need to wipe him.

The Soldier knew that it was a soul implant and its blank screen meant he had met his soul mate.

He was not allowed possessions but now he indirectly had one in the form of a mate. The blond man’s very existence went against his orders. The Soldier should have destroyed him right on the spot but he ran instead…

The Soldier’s brows pinched together in confusion as he continued to stare at the implant. He did not understand his actions. It went against everything that he trained for.

Protocol dictated that he inform his master immediately. Any change in the protocol must be reported straightaway.

Yet the Soldier made no move to do so. He just continued to look at his blank soul implant.

For the first time in a long time, the Soldier felt the barrier to his locked up emotions. Something on the other side was threatening to escape and pounded against the barrier with amazing strength.

The Soldier licked his lips and his heart-rate picked up.

He pulled the sleeve of his jacket back down and looked away from his arm. He clenched his fists and felt the implant pull at his taunt skin. Why was he so against turning this information into his master? Every second spent withholding this information were seconds spent going against his master’s regulations.

“ _To the end of the line_.”

The Soldier withdrew his gun and spun around, pointing to where he heard the voice. Yet no one was there. He stalked around the shadowy enclosure that he had hidden himself in but found no one and no trace that anyone had been there.

He was hearing things.

 _This_ was something he needed to report.

It would lead to another mind wipe and he would forget who the blond man was but it could not be helped. Nothing could distract the Soldier and, perhaps, this would be for the best.

\---

In the wake of Fury’s death, everyone forgot that Steve’s timer had reached its end.

He kept it covered when he was summoned to SHIELD. He kept Fury’s advice and trusted no one. When Pierce questioned him, he gave little information.

He was glad he did it.

He was attacked by the same people he thought his allies. He barely escaped and had to free fall several stories to do so.

Hurt and with no one to trust, he planned to leave the state, maybe even the country, but first he needed to get the flash drive Fury trusted with him. He had hidden at the hospital they took Fury. They had taken him straight to HQ after and he did not want to risk anyone finding it.

But it was gone.

He stared darkly at the vending machine he had hidden it in, and wondered whose hands it was in now. SHIELD? Or maybe Fury’s assassin, the man who was also Steve’s soul mate?

“So was your soul mate a man or a woman?”

Steve spun around and saw Natasha leaning against the wall, holding the flash drive. He lunged at her and slammed her flat against the wall. He assumed the worst and hissed, “What do you know about him?”

“A man?” Natasha affirmed. “Looks like Captain America only bats for one team.”

“ _Natasha_ –,” Steve growled in warning.

“Who is it I am supposed to know?”

“Fury’s assassin…” Steve looked down in shame and loosened his grip. He whispered, “He-He is also my mate.”

He did not see her face but Natasha’s voice was gentler as she replied, “I read your report on the assassin…I think I might have encountered him before…”

According to Natasha, he had no name just the title: Winter Soldier. He was more of a legend than a man. He had nearly killed Natasha once and was responsible for dozens deaths over the last 50 years.

Steve took in all the information with a blank expression. Internally, he was horrified. He thought this man was bad enough as Fury’s murder but to know how much more he was capable of…. How could this man be Steve’s soul mate? There had to be a mistake. Maybe Steve’s implant was defective. Because there was no way he could ever learn to trust this man nonetheless _love_ him!

Steve was quick to trust Natasha after her account and believed the honesty in her tone to be true. In less than an hour, Steve and Natasha had changed clothes and were at the mall. Using a computer store, they utilized one of their demo laptops to see what was on the flash drive. It pointed them to a location in New Jersey but also drew SHIELD to their location.

Natasha quickly guided him through the mall and it looked like they were going to escape without notice until they reached the escalator. They were going down and Rumlow was going up.

Natasha turned to him and hissed, “Kiss me.”

“What?” Steve gasped.

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, they do,” Steve retorted and was feeling very uncomfortable just thinking about kissing Natasha. He had never kissed anyone else other than Bucky.

Natasha grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and smashed her mouth against his. Steve stiffened then forced himself to relax. The flush that stained his cheeks may have been mistaken for a blush but it was actually shame. Despite the fact that Bucky was long dead, Steve felt like he was betraying him.

Natasha pulled away and tugged at the tiny golden arrow on her necklace. Steve knew it to be a gift from Clint and he imagined Natasha was having a similar reaction as Steve was to kissing someone other than her mate. Nonetheless, she asked, “You still uncomfortable?”

“That’s not exactly the word I would use,” Steve sighed, feeling like a bastard. Maybe it was a good thing the assassin was his soul mate. They obviously could never be together. Steve still loved Bucky. If he had been a normal person, Steve would have never been able to be intimate with him…

\---

The Soldier woke in the chair so immediately knew he was fresh from a mind wipe.

The lab technicians ignored him as he stood and moved to gear up. He moved quickly and efficiently until his eyes caught sight of the device on his right arm. He paused, only for a few seconds, to stare at the blank screen, then got back to work.

His mind was usually blank as he readied his weapons but now he speculated if his mind wipe was done because he had found his soul mate. Whoever it was, was still alive. The Soldier darkly wondered how much time had passed since he met his soul mate and if this person was free or a prisoner of his master.

He kept his suspicions to himself and went to his master.

He waited in the shadows of his master’s home as his housekeeper was packing up to leave. His master saw him waiting but ignored him until the woman was gone. It was only then did his master sit at the table with him and begin telling him his next mission.

The housekeeper came back, saying something about her phone, but paused when she saw the Soldier. His master sighed heavily then picked up the Soldier’s gun and shot the woman. With the housekeeper dead and bleeding out in the kitchen, his master turned back to him and continued as if nothing had occurred.

He was to kill two targets this time and any others that were helping them in their endeavors. His master slid two pictures across the table. SHIELD’s insignia was on the bottom right-hand corner of the photos, telling the Soldier these people are or were once agents.

One was a redheaded woman who glared from the picture defiantly.

The other was a blond man who looked sad and whose light blue eyes drew the Soldier’s. The Soldier picked up this man’s picture to look at his eyes better.

“They keep giving away their location,” his master murmured. “First at the local mall and about an hour ago they were at an old base in New Jersey…You will be put on standby with team. I suspect they will be popping up again nearby.”

The Soldier nodded and picked up the other target’s picture. He slid both pictures in his chest pocket. He paused after doing it. Usually he kept his targets’ photos in his back right pocket…He made no move to move them. He could not help but notice his heart was beating right beneath where the photos lay and for some reason he was reminded of his target’s sad blue eyes.

His master was right in his assumption. The next day, their targets surfaced again, when they kidnapped one of his master’s agents. They were able to track the agent through his tracer.

He and his team caught up to the group as they were driving. The Soldier did not wait for them to pull over and leapt from his vehicle to theirs.

The first thing he did was kill the disloyal Hydra operative by breaking through the window, pulling him out, and throwing him in front of an oncoming truck. Then he withdrew his pistol and shot down at the spots where his targets were sitting. The brakes were slammed on the car beneath him and he went flying from the hood.

He flipped in midair then caught himself as he landed by digging his metallic left hand into the asphalt. He snapped up his head and was disappointed to see everyone in the car had survived.

He glared at the targets and they stared back at him in shock.

The Soldier’s eyes immediately found the blue eyes of the male target and held his gaze. His eyes were more blue and intense in person. The Soldier felt bewitched.

The only reason their locked gazes broke was because the Soldier’s men slammed their vehicle into the back of the smaller car and sent it jerking forward. The blond man had cast a strange spell on the Soldier. His eyes were like an enchantment trying to draw him in every time their gazes connected. He needed to get rid of the distraction before it jeopardized the mission.

The targets were trying to escape. The Soldier held out his hand and one of his men gave him a grenade-launcher. Without a second thought, the Soldier swung the weapon forward and pointed it at the blond man. Their gazes locked and the Soldier pulled the trigger. The blond man lifted his shield but was knocked off his feet and thrown off the bridge.

One target down. Two to go.

The Soldier’s heart lurched strangely in his chest but he told himself he did not notice it. The blond man was just another target. Nothing more. The spell was broken and he moved on.

The Soldier went after the redhead next since she was the more primary target than the other. She was good and was able to dodge the Soldier’s attacks.

He followed her off the bridge and was about to deliver the kill shot when the blond target suddenly came running toward them. The Soldier did not have enough time to draw a weapon so he drew back his metal fist and punched at him as hard he could but, instead of breaking the man’s skull, he hit his shield. The shield didn’t break and clanged loudly upon impact, sending powerful vibrations racing up his arm. For only a few seconds, they stayed connected: fist to shield. His eyes searched the enchanting blue and, this close, he could make out his target’s glare. It was the rage in the man’s eyes that finally broke the enchantment and…something inside him broke as well. Something he did not even know was there but with it gone he had left a deep well of nothing in its wake.

What sort of sorcerer was this target?? The Soldier had never become so unhinged by one man!

From there they fought. The Soldier delivered bullets and his target delivered kicks and punches that connected with much more velocity than an average man could deliver. The blond was quick to dodge then relieve him of his guns and the Soldier had to resort to his own fists and knife. They traded blows and seemed to be evenly matched. The Soldier could not help but admire the man’s strength and speed. He was a worthy adversary.

The Soldier’s right fist made contact with the man’s face. It was the first time their flesh touched and both of their soul implants beeped. The Soldier stumbled in surprise. If his soul implant beeped then that meant this man was…

With the Soldier’s distraction, the target managed to grab his face and pushed him back to slam him into the ground. The Soldier used the momentum to flip but lost his mask in the process.

He turned back to the blond and watched the man’s expression change from determined, to shocked, to joyful, to fearful, and then it settled on total disbelief.

“Bucky?” The blond gasped.

The name made the soldier shiver and grit his teeth. Another spell. He hissed, “Who the hell is Bucky?” Saying the name made his throat tighten. The blond man took a step forward and such a motion did something to the Soldier.

In his mind he heard the name again and was accompanied by a bizarre image.

_“Bucky,” the blond had gasped, laying naked under the Soldier. His light blue eyes were glazed over with desire and were focused on the Soldier. Both his hands dug into the Soldier’s arms and his legs were partially wrapped around his hips. In the Soldier’s hand, he held both his and the blond’s cock hot and searing to the touch._

The Soldier stepped out of the vision and stared incredulously at the man before him. He gripped the implant on his right arm and wondered if this all wasn't sorcery but his body trying to tell him this was his mate. It had to be, his mind was giving him visions to prevent him from killing him. Was that why he was a target? Did his master want him to destroy the man as punishment for finding him?

Before he could react to the question or the man before him, he was hit from behind. When he stood, he found he was surround by his targets. The one that had hit him had a flight suit, the redhead had the grenade launcher, and the blond had his shield whereas the Soldier only had his knife.

The Soldier threw the blade at the blond but it flew past him without inflicting any damage.

The Soldier never missed.

The Soldier was compromised.

The redhead reacted as soon as the Soldier moved and shot a grenade at him. The Soldier dodged and used the explosion to slip away. He could hear the sirens as his master’s backup approached. They would have to take care of the targets, the Soldier feared he might hinder his master’s men more than help them.

Then the blond man was screaming out that name again.

“BUCKY?!”

The Soldier’s entire body jerked upon the exclamation but he kept walking away.

He heard his men yell at the targets to get down but the blond man ignored them and yelled out the name again.

“BUCKY?!”

This time the Soldier fell into a nearby car with a groan as his head threatened to split open. What was the target doing to him?

One of Hydra’s cars pulled alongside him and the men inside clambered out and grabbed him. They dragged him back in the vehicle and drove him back to the base.

The entire way, the Soldier was assaulted by odd visions of the blond man. Sharing a bed with him, doing math equations together, staring up at the stars, but mostly he saw himself being intimate with the man. They made love at various different ages as if they had known each other their entire lives…and maybe they had.

The master’s men could tell something was wrong so he was immediately taken to the chair. He sat upright and ridged and did not move, even when the lab technicians tried to push him back. He would not let them move him because more memories were coming back, yes, _memories_. It was of a time before he was the Soldier and a time where he had two flesh arms and a soul mate whom he loved with all his heart…

The Soldier did not realize he had a heart. He did not want to forget and was beginning to question his orders.

His master was called in and he stood before the Soldier and demanded, “Mission report?”

The Soldier did not reply. He was too focused on the memories that were trickling into his mind to notice the man before him.

“Mission report?” His master repeated with a growl.

The Solider continued to be silently contemplative so his master strode forward and slapped him.

The Soldier took the blow and when his master asked for the report again the Soldier asked, “The man on the bridge, who was he?”

“You met him earlier this week on another assignment,” his master retorted curtly.

That explained his blank soul implant and both their implants beeping when they touched. When they met on the last assignment, they must have not touched and only locked eyes.

The Soldier reflected on his memories and fingered the spot on his metallic left arm where a soul implant once was… In another life, “…I knew him,” the Soldier whispered.

His master ignored the statement and began talking about making a better world under Hydra but the Soldier droned it all out in favor of remembering how it felt to kiss the blond man. How could he forget that sweet sensation, those bursts of emotion that rocked his body, and those enchanting blue eyes?

When his master was done with his tirade, the Soldier defied all logic and decorum and met his master square in the eye. The Soldier repeated louder, “I knew him.”

“Wipe him,” his master retorted.

“We’ve tried, sir –,” one technician began. “He won’t sit back-.”

His master’s glare focused on the Soldier and, for a moment, doubt flickered in the older man’s gaze. Yet, whatever doubts he held were gone in seconds and he looked down upon the Soldier and commanded, “Sit back and take the wipe.”

The Soldier could not disobey him. He was like a machine following the directive he had been programmed with. If his master said jump, he would jump. And if he ordered him to let the technicians take these precious memories away from him then, he would let them.

He let the technicians push him back into the chair and buckle him in. He had to follow orders but he did not want this. He began to hyperventilate. The urge to fight was overwhelming. He wanted these memories – no – he _needed_ them.

Yet…he did nothing.

His master commanded that he was to let his mind be wiped and he was to obey. It was the way of his life.

They held his mouth-bite out to him and he opened his mouth and let them put it in. He bit into tightly and internally reflected on the sky blue gaze that had once been hooded and filled with desire as they had stared at him. The man had loved him deeply and dearly, the Soldier never had that before. As the contraption lowered around his head and began to buzz, the Soldier gripped the arms of the chair tightly and struggled for breath.

“ _Bucky_ ,” the blond gasped in his memory from their past lovemaking.

It was only at that moment the Soldier realized that “Bucky” was his name.

A moment later, the machine burned into his skull and stole that knowledge and the memory from him. The Soldier screamed from both the pain of the wipe and the injustice of the precious things that he had lost.

\---

Steve sat in the corner of the room as Fury and the others planned out the next mission. Steve had been in shock since the fight. Fury being alive barely fazed him compared to the fact that Bucky was still alive…Alive and brainwashed.

 _But_ _Alive_.

Steve did not know if he should laugh or cry.

The others were discussing taking down the helicarriers and Steve was listening but he doubted he could find his voice to give any opinion.

Bucky was alive.

But Bucky tried to kill him.

Steve gripped his implant as his heart crumbled to dust and settled heavily in his abdomen. How did he survive? How was he _still_ alive and so young? And…how could he try to _kill_ Steve?

Bucky did not remember Steve or himself, Steve reminded himself. The few words they exchanged clearly showed that but…but what if it wasn’t even Bucky? What if that person he met was something like a clone? The 21st century was filled with amazing and horrible things he thought possible only in sci-fi comics…who’s to say this wasn’t just another factor?

His chest compressed tightly at the thought.

_No! Bucky had to be alive! Steve had to find a way to save him!_

“Steve?”

Steve jerked his head up and met Natasha’s eyes. She lightly touched his arm and said, “We’ve got a plan…but we’re going to need you. We split up the helicarriers between ourselves and we need you to take down one of the helicarriers. Do you think you can do it? If he’s there…can you fight the Winter Soldier?”

Steve gulped and spanned his gaze from Natasha and to the rest of the gathered company. He could fight any agents Hydra would throw at him but-but not Bucky. He could never hurt his soul mate.

Steve looked down guiltily at his hands. Hours prior they had struck Bucky and deflected blows from him. Just knowing that made Steve want to sob. He clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut.

The grim truth of the matter, however, was that Steve was the only one who could fight him. Hydra not only altered Bucky’s mind but they also increased his strength and speed. Out of all of them, Steve was the only one who could apprehend him.

Steve lifted his head with a sharp inhale. He met Natasha’s eyes and stated, “Yes, yes I do it…I can fight him.”

\---

The Soldier’s head hurt. He had been given too many mind wipes in the last few days.

He ignored the pain and ritualistically assembled his weapons. He paused when he saw his soul implant. It was blank…When did it go blank? Did he have a soul mate? Where was his mate?

As he stared at it, his headache grew worse.

The Soldier shook his head and put his full concentration back onto the weapons. He had a new mission. His mind was not allowed to deviate from the mission. He could not think about the blank soul implant.

The Soldier snapped to attention as his master entered the room. He stared straight ahead as the older man approached him. His master circled him and informed him, “Today, with the launching of the helicarriers, Hydra shall finally emerge from the shadows. You are going to protect one of the keys to making that possible.”

The Soldier nodded curtly.

“Move out, Asset,” his master commanded. The Soldier nodded curtly again and strode forward. Only a few feet separated him from his master before his master suddenly called out, “Soldier!” The Soldier came to a halt at his master’s outcry. His master stepped up to him and he stated, “Captain America will definitely try to stop you. Kill him before he can stop us.”

The Soldier tightened his hold on his gun and nodded curtly again. His master nodded too, giving him leave to go. The Soldier strode forward, adjusting the settings on his weapon as he did.

Protecting one of the helicarriers and killing Captain America was his new mission and the Soldier would complete it just as he did with every other mission. His mind was totally focused on this new task and his soul implant was completely forgotten.

The helicarriers were attacked as soon as they were launched. The Soldier listened in over the communications as, one by one, the other two were compromised. He quickly deduced that they were getting in through the communications relay at the base of the helicarriers and went there to wait for their enemies.

Out of all of them, it was Captain America who broke into the helicarrier the Soldier was guarding. The Soldier stared him down, sizing up his armor and shield. He had no weapons other than his fists and shield. But he was covered in armor all the way from the thick cowl on his face to the army leather boots on his feet.

“People are going to die, Buck,” Captain America stated. “I can’t let that happen.”

The Soldier’s eyes flickered up from his body and latched onto the Captain’s face. He heard the hurt in the man’s voice but now he saw that his gaze was begging something of the Soldier. Did the Captain think he could pacify the Soldier with his sad countenance?  

The Soldier stared at him blankly, waiting for the Captain to make the first move.

The Captain shook his head and begged, “Please don’t make me do this…”

The Soldier continued to stare at him indifferently. On the outside, he was like a statue, completely still and vacant but, on the inside, he was primed and ready to jump into the fight at any second.

The Captain took several deep breaths, priming himself, then gritted his teeth and threw his shield at the Soldier.

The Soldier deflected the shield with his metal arm and countered the attack by shooting at the Captain. The Captain fell forward, dodging the bullets and diving right into the Soldier’s personal space. He caught his shield and punched it at the Soldier which the Soldier deflected with his left arm again.

The Soldier kept trying to shoot him but whenever he pulled the trigger the Captain seemed to know where he was shooting and deflected his bullets with his shield. Eventually, the Captain just pushed his shield forward and sent the Soldier flying into the console and his gun was thrown from his grip. His back was bruised by the impact but the Soldier walked it off as he got to his feet, drawing a knife.

He glared at the Captain and it made the Captain’s determined gaze waver with renewed sorrow. The Soldier used it to his advantage and launched himself at the Captain in his moment of hesitation.

The Captain inhaled sharply as the blade came within inches of his neck. It would have gone into his neck had he not hit the Soldier’s arm out of the way at the last moment.

They traded blows but his knife only managed to hit the shield and never the Captain’s body. He let the Soldier get some hits in with his fist yet never anything too serious and the Captain only hit the Soldier to push him away, never to impact debilitating wounds. It infuriated the Soldier. It was like the Captain was playing with him.

The Soldier switched his blade to his metal arm and then pushed the full force of it at the Captain. The Captain grunted as he caught the arm. The gears shifted and whirled in his arm as the Soldier pushed but, with a yell, the Captain pushed him away and the Soldier went stumbling back.

When he righted his footing, his eyes immediately focused on the Captain. Captain America was fiddling with the tower console. The soldier gritted his teeth. His mission was in jeopardy.

He launched himself at the Captain and grabbed him by the waist. They struggled for a moment, trading blows as the Soldier refused to let him go until he was able to throw them both over the edge of the platform. They separated when they hit the middle level but both jumped to their feet and lunched themselves as each other. They collided and exchanged moves only seen in Thai boxing with quick punches and kicks to vulnerable flesh. The Captain was finally attacking him, his teeth were gritted with anger and his eyes had narrowed, blocking out the sadness that was distracting him earlier.

The blows were strong enough that they fell again to the next level where the Captain’s shield and the Soldier’s gun had both fallen. Each of them ran to their respective weapons and picked them up simultaneously. The Soldier shot at him but the Captain ducked behind his shield and was unharmed. The Soldier threw aside his gun and charged forward with his knife. The Captain had enough time to scramble to his feet and grab the Soldier’s arm but not enough time to put his strength behind the block.

The Soldier plunged the blade into the Captain’s shoulder and the man screamed.

The breath caught in the Soldier’s throat and something skewered itself in his heart.

…Did the Captain’s pain hurt the Soldier?

The distraction was enough for the Captain to kick him away and rip the knife from his shoulder. He grabbed the Soldier by the throat and lifted him off his feet. His air was cut off immediately. The Soldier fought his hold and kicked out at him. The Captain flipped him onto his side, slamming him into the glass floor.

“I’m sorry,” the Captain gasped. He begged, “Stop fighting it. Please, stop.”

The Soldier wildly reached for the Captain but the Captain wrapped his body around the Solider and pulled him into a chokehold.

The Soldier fought as his vision began to blur. In his ear, he could feel the Captain’s breath huffing shallowly against his skin…It felt oddly…familiar?

His headache turned into a raging monster, distracting the Soldier from everything. Finally, it was too much for the Soldier and his limbs fell weakly to his side and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

The Captain released him before unconsciousness claimed him. Through hazy eyes he watched the Captain climb back up to the console. The Soldier dizzily pulled himself up and looked around him. He spotted his gun a few feet away. He clambered to his feet and went over to the weapon. He picked it up and swung it in the direction of his target. When the Captain was in his sites, he pulled the trigger.

The Captain fell forward as the bullet sunk into his thigh. He turned to the Soldieur and looked at him with wide eyes. The Soldier shook his head, trying to dispel the fog from his mind. That should have been a clean shot, right into the back of his head. The Captain should be dead.

The Captain jumped back into his climbing with renewed vigor and the Soldier shot again, this time hitting his shoulder.

…His head was clearer. He should not be missing.

The Captain continued moving and the Soldier staggered back to keep him in his view.

The Captain reached the console and the Soldier aimed his gun perfectly and pulled the trigger. The Captain flinched back and crumpled to the floor. The Soldier lowered his gun and the Captain peered down at him, with eyes watering with disbelief as he was struggling to breathe.

The Captain surged up and slammed a chip into the console and the entire helicarrier shuddered.

The Captain fell back down with a painful gasp and yelled into his communicator, “Fire now!”

He ripped the device from his ear and looked to the Soldier, waiting…for him to finish him? No, he was just watching him. The Soldier lurched over to him. He may have failed in protecting the helicarrier but that was only half the mission. He could still kill the Captain.

The helicarrier shook as the other two attacked it and the Soldier ignored it. Yet, the blasts hit where they were and the next thing he knew he was screaming out in pain as he was pinned by a beam, crushing his torso.

He saw the Captain peek down at him from the floors above then he jumped down. He landed on his hands and knees as his stab and bullet wounds hindered him but he straightened out somewhat and dragged himself over to the Soldier. Every time the helicarrier shuddered he fell over but, instead of escaping, he made his way over to the Soldier.

The Soldier pushed at the beam, not wanting to be killed so easily. Yet the Captain surprised him and, instead of killing the Soldier, he helped him. He lifted the beam just enough for the Soldier to crawl out, stretching out his wounds and releasing a torrent of blood as he did.

The Soldier dragged himself out and the Captain dropped the beam with a grunt. They knelled feet from each other for a time, both gasping for breath.

Then their eyes met and the Captain gasped, “You know me…”

“No, I don’t!” The Soldier growled, punching the Captain. His headache pounded with the words. What game was this man playing at? They both straightened, gasping for breath.

“B-Bucky,” the Captain gasped, reaching out to him. His voice was beseeching as he gasped, “You’ve known me your whole life. You- _You are my life_.”

The Soldier punched him back again.

The Captain fell back and they both collapsed from the hit. The Soldier’s headache was making him dizzy and he felt like he was going to vomit.

The Captain struggled to his feet and gasped, “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

“SHUT UP!” The Soldier screamed, hitting him again. His head was going to explode. _That_ _name_ —?! Why did that name hurt??

The Soldier hunched over, trying to catch his breath and the Captain caught himself before he fell. They turned back to each other and the Captain ripped his cowl from his head, exposing his blond hair. The Soldier froze. He…He recognized this man. How does he know him?

The Captain was swaying on his feet, barely keeping himself upright. His startling blue eyes met the Soldier’s and he whispered, “I am not going to fight you.” He dropped his shield and it fell down, through a hole in the floor, disappearing into the smoke of the dying helicarriers. The Soldier’s gaze snapped from the shield to its owner. The Captain caught his breath and declared, “You are my soul mate. I love you…Bucky, I can’t—can’t hurt you anymore. Bucky – Sweetheart?”

The term of endearment hurt him to his core. It made him feel weak which in turn enraged him. He launched himself at the Captain and pushed him to the floor. The Captain fell and put up no defense as the Soldier pummeled his face.

“You’re my mission,” the Soldier hissed, punching his face with his metal fist. Why didn’t he fight back?? Why did he call him his soul mate? Why wasn’t he putting up a defense??

The Soldier picked him up by the scruff of his neck and drew back his fist, planning to punch his head clear off his shoulders.

“Then finish it,” the Captain whispered, his eyes staring off into the distance. His eyes slowly raised and met the Soldier’s. His gaze filled was with love and sorrow as he whispered, “Cuz I’m with you till the end of the line.”

The Soldier was slapped with an instant vision.

_He was reaching out from a train car window and Steve was reaching up to him, stretching his tiny body as much as he can. He tried to tighten his hold on Steve’s fingers by curling them a little more._

_This would be the last time he could touch Steve for weeks to come and he wanted the moment to last as long as it could._

_He never looked away from his husband as he tried to burn the image of Steve’s unflinching gaze into his mind. The photograph in his breast pocket might look like Steve but it held none of his vigor or spirit. He swore, “Beyond the platform, beyond the station…you’re with me, till the end of the line.”_

_“To the end of the line,” Steve smiled as he repeated the words._

_The train was beginning to move faster and the end of the platform was rushing toward him._

_“I love you, Bucky!” Steve gasped one last time._

_“I love you too!” He gasped quickly then broke his hold out of Steve’s._

The Soldier was flung from the memory as their hands separated and was left staring down at the same man he had made the promise to. The Captain…Steve was larger but his eyes were still unflinching as their gazes collided.

Hyperventilating, with his fist still raised in the air, he stared down at Steve in horror, his eyes widening with every passing second. Was that really real? Was this man his…soul mate? His husband? How long…when…why? So many questions filtered through his mind he did not know where to begin. He slowly lowered his fist and whispered the simplest of questions, “S-Steve?”

Steve’s lips curled slightly into a small smile and another, shorter memory came back to him in the blink of an eye. _He loved the feel of his smiles as they kissed._

His grip slackened and the entire helicarrier shook violently. Steve fell from his loose grip and his body plunged down into the smoke. The Soldier caught himself and watched in disbelief, as the man that had destroyed everything he knew, fell away from him.

He hit the water and the Soldier dived after him without a second thought.

He did not look at Steve as he dragged him out of the water. He was unconscious and did not bother the Soldier. Yet, he placed him on the beach, the Soldier’s eyes finally focused on him. Water dripped from Steve’s mouth and he shakily inhaled a shallow breath. The Soldier knelt beside him and gently brushed the water off his bottom lip. The lip was soft, despite the Soldier having punched it and another memory hit him. This one was of tangled limbs, hearty moans, and the feel of those lips nipping down the small of his back.

The Soldier leapt away from Steve and stared at him fearfully. Tremors were shaking his limbs. This wasn’t right. He should not have saved him. His mission was to kill the Captain…but-but Steve – he couldn’t kill Ste –.

His headache returned, burning through the bone of his skull and he clutched his head with a mighty groan.

He had to get away. He had to find his master. He needed new orders. He needed a direction for what to do about Steve because, at that moment, his body was telling him to save him but his mind knew the man to also be the Captain and he knew he had to kill him or fail his mission. Were Steve and the Captain really one in the same? It couldn’t be possible. He couldn’t believe it until his master told him otherwise.

The Soldier told himself he was tactically retreating as he fled the man he believed his soul mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Ch. 7 Regrouping


	7. Regrouping

Steve was dreaming of Bucky. They were hanging out on the docks. Bucky’s dark blue eyes were dancing with mirth as he mumbled, “Punk,” and lightly tapped Steve’s chin in a mock punch.

Oh my God. That punch was nothing so why did his face hurt like this?

Oh…Wait. His memories trickled back to him. There was a valid reason his face felt like hammered meat. Bucky had punched him…several times.

He surfaced to the sound of light singing and found Sam sitting at his bedside.

“On your left,” he mumbled and Sam smirked as his eyes fell on Steve.

Steve shifted in his bed and glanced around the room, half hoping Bucky would be sitting there too yet his soul mate was nowhere to be found.

“Bucky?” Steve wheezed, his throat tight.

The smile fell off Sam’s face and he murmured, “The Winter Solider is on the wind. No one has seen him since the helicarriers fell…”

Steve fell back into the bed and stared at the ceiling. He thought back to the moment before darkness claimed him and his husband had gasped his name. Did Bucky truly remember him? Or was it also a part of his dream?

“Nat is calling in some favors. She’s getting files on him from both SHIELD and her contacts in Russia,” Sam stated.

Steve turned back to Sam and smiled gratefully at him. He whispered, “Really?”

Sam leaned forward and murmured, “Yes, we need all the information we can get on him if we’re hunting him down.”

“We?” Steve sat up again and asked, “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I know,” Sam replied. “Where do we start?”

Steve swung his legs out of bed and said, “Where the Helicarriers fell. Let’s start right now!”

Sam scrambled to his feet and gasped, “Whoa, stop right there! The docs just removed a couple of bullets out of you! Just lay down and rest! At least wait for Natasha to return!”

Steve fell back down with a grunt….He would really like to get a look at those files Natasha was bringing…

“When’s Natasha getting back?”

“By tonight,” Sam replied with a wryly grin. “So please…relax and heal until then. You may be a super soldier but you are not indestructible.”

Steve settled back on the bed and his gaze skewered itself into the ceiling. He stated the obvious, “Bucky is a super soldier.”

Sam sighed, “Looks like it…You two were made for each other.”

Steve touched the side of his face, where Bucky had punched him so many times he lost count. It was violent enough to crack his teeth, jaw, and cheekbone.

How did they come to this?

Steve did not reply to Sam’s comment but he must have been shooting off enough negative waves for Sam to reassuringly state, “We’ll find him, Steve. We’ll get him help.”

Steve shot Sam a weak smile in thanks and then turned to his side, facing away from his friend, to continue his dark brooding.

Sam eventually slipped away to get some food and, in the silence, he did not hear Natasha arrive. She announced her presence by whispering, “Hey, soldier.”

Steve shot up in his bed and his eyes snapped immediately to Natasha.

She smirked from where she leaned in the doorway and then sauntered the rest of the way into the room.

In her hands, she held a manila file.

“Nat,” Steve begged breathlessly as soon as his eyes fell on that file. His fingers were twitching to grab it. The file made him both breathless with anticipation and utterly scared out of his mind. He knew Bucky had killed many as the Winter Soldier but how bad was it truly?

Natasha held up the file and peered down at it thoughtfully. She murmured, “Are you sure you want to tug on this string, Steve?”

Her eyes flickered up and met his. Her usually stoic gaze was uncertain.

Steve truthfully did not want to know the horrors his husband must have endured but, to find him and to be there for him, Steve needed to know everything.

He hardened his resolve, held out his hand, and said, “I can take it.”

She nodded, the uncertainty in her eyes evolving into a guarded resolve, and she handed him the file. Steve greedily cracked it open but was startled to a pause when he saw Bucky’s pictures. One was from his service in the army but the larger was more recent and he was covered in ice. Steve could not help but remember his 70 years in the arctic.

“They cryogenically froze him over the years,” Natasha explained without having to ask what shocked him.

“…Between assassinations,” Steve supplied for her. It was easy to guess why they did it but voicing it aloud made it real…and more horrific. _Poor_ _Bucky_.

“Yes,” Natasha said. “But it was also the least damaging way to keep his mind wiped. If he operated too long without the wipe then his brain started healing and he started to remember. His healing ability was a double edged sword for them.”

Steve tightly gripped the files and thought back to their last moments on the helicarrier. Bucky had said his name and then saved him. Was he already regaining his memory?

Hope blossomed in his chest but he did not focus on it. He turned his attentions back to the files. These will be Steve’s first steps in helping his wayward husband.

Most of the files were in Russian, a language Steve never learned, but there were a few photos from crime scenes or polaroids of people’s faces. Steve lightly laid the files on the bed and asked, “He killed all these people?”

“Yes,” Natasha replied.

“…W-were they bad?”

“…Some,” Natasha stated carefully.

Steve covered both his eyes with a single hand as pity and desolation overcame him. Bucky hated killing and was only able to stomach his kills because he was fighting for the common good.

He should have gone back for Bucky. He should have made sure he was really gone and now…now everything that had happened to him was Steve’s fault.

Steve tore his hand away from his face with a hiss and gasped, “Natasha – can-can you translate this for me?”

She sat on the edge of the bed and lightly touched the files. She whispered, “I already read them…do you want me to give you the summarized version?” Steve nodded curtly and Natasha sighed lightly before dividing a third of the files away from the main stack. She whispered, “He’s been working for Russia and Hydra since the 1950s. These files list the kills he made in the first decade. After that, he was traded around for a while, and the records become sparser…” She collected a large portion of the files and stated, “These are all the recorded kills…but there are more…much more.”

Steve stared grimly at the stack she held. It had to physically weigh less than a pound but the weight of all those deaths was _so_ much heavier. Bucky’s mind was warped now but if he was able to remember…that cheerful man he had loved _so_ _much_ – he would be crushed.

Natasha continued, not noticing his pain. She placed the pile of Bucky’s kills onto the bed then touched the last of the papers carefully as if weary of being burned. She whispered, “These are his medical records…”

Steve’s eyes shot over to the papers she was touching, his heartbeat picking up.

Natasha stated, “They created a machine to clear his mind after every mission but…before it…they tried to control him by breaking his mind. He suffered years of psychological and physical tortu—.”

“No,” Steve gasped, interrupting her. He covered his ears, not wanting to hear it, and moaned, “No, oh my God, nooo.”

Natasha wrapped an arm around his back and whispered, “Stop tugging on the string, Steve. You don’t have to know everything. It’s all too much for one person to handle.”

Steve buried his face into her shoulder and shuddered as he held back sobs. He gasped, “I should have gone back for him. _Why didn’t I go back?_ Why did I let this happen to him??” Natasha closed the file but Steve grabbed her wrist and gasped, “Wait!” He inhaled a deep, shuddering breath and repeated, “Wait…I need to know. If Bucky was able survive all of this then I can survive hearing it. I need to help him through this.” Steve let go of her wrist and carefully reopened the file. He asked, “What did he go through?”

Natasha regarded him with an unreadable expression and then slowly reopened the files. She looked down at the papers and then slowly began to read the inhumane things done to Bucky all in the name of creating a perfect weapon.

Steve tried to be strong…but there was only so much information he could take before the horrors all amassed and threatened to break his very sanity.

By the time Sam returned, Steve had given up on displaying any proper decorum and was literally sobbing on Natasha’s shoulder. The information was limited but Steve was crying by the first account of his soul mate’s torture. Bucky had been broken in literally every way possible. They had even raped him when they found out he was homosexual. Steve almost vomited when Natasha told him. He wanted so badly to comfort Bucky, to hold him and endlessly apologize for not looking for him after his fall.

Sam jolted to a stop as soon as he saw Steve sobbing.

He looked from Steve to Natasha with an alarmed expression clearly wondering what he should do. What should a man do when he finds Captain America, the strongest man on the planet, was broken and crumbling before his eyes.

Steve simply kept crying but Natasha waved Sam in and explained, “We’re going through Barnes’ file. He was tortured.”

Sam’s shoulders dropped and he looked at Steve with pity. He had a bag of takeout in hand and he walked over to his side and lightly rubbed his shoulder.

“We’ll find him,” Sam promised. “We’ll help him.”

\---

The Soldier’s master was dead and no one from the organization stepped forward to take his place. The Soldier had no one to report to and he had no new mission other than killing Captain America.

With no master to command him, he decided that he was not killing Captain America when he and Steve were the same. It was disobeying his prior master’s orders yet…it felt right.

It was strangely exhilarating to make his own decisions.

But the Winter Soldier did not operate without a purpose. He needed a mission. Steve had elected to be with him “until the end of the line” and it affected the Soldier as strongly as a mission dictated by his master. So it was an easy decision. He had to help Steve accomplish this “end of the line.”

His headache was going away, and in its place, he was remembering strange things. The kills he remembered did not bother him. It was what he was created to do…or at least, that’s what he thought he was created to do…

Other memories were trickling back that were skewing everything he knew. Memories of the Captain were the most prevalent and always came to him as he slept. His dreams told him that they had shared a bed as boys and later, as adults, fighting together in a war he could not name.

And that saying, “To the end of the line,” was always there and seemed to be a promise they shared but he had no context behind its meaning. All he felt was a pull, stronger than the ones that compelled him on his missions, to keep this promise.

The Soldier kept himself moving. SHIELD was hunting down the last of Hydra and the Soldier knew he couldn’t be captured.

Yet he couldn’t leave the D.C. area.

If he could not complete his mission in killing his Captain then maybe he could keep his promise to the man. The promise could be his new mission. But what did it mean? To the end of the line?

He needed more information.

He was unable to approach Steve again. He was surrounded and always watched by SHIELD…Or, at least, that was the excuse the Soldier used. Truthfully, going back to the Captain was an alarming notion that made him feel…things that he could not categorize.

Which was what led him to the Smithsonian. All over the D.C. area there were advertisements for the Captain America exhibit. Maybe the exhibit held the answer to the odd statement…

He had stolen civilian clothes days prior and slipped into the museum in disguise. He pinpointed the cameras easily and avoided them by staying out of their line of sight or ducking behind the cap of his baseball hat to hide his face. His metal arm was hidden by his jacket and gloves so he had no worries obscuring it. His jacket was also bulky enough to hide the three pistols and numerous knives he had hidden on his person. No one paid him any attention and children ran past him without a care.

The exhibit itself was informative about Steve. It took the Soldier through his life. As he read about his childhood as a sickly boy, a memory flashed through his mind of a young Steve bedridden and wheezing for breath.

As he studied the sketches Steve had drawn, he focused on one particular sketch and was able to remember a small Steve sitting on an old sofa drawing it as he leaned into the Soldier’s side.

With every new piece of information, the Soldier was struck with more memories. At one point, he had to stagger off to the side as his headache grew so powerful he could barely stand upright.

It took him a few minutes to recover but he pressed on. For the first time, he was greedy for more. What else was stolen from him? Who was Steve?

With every new piece, a picture was being drawn of this perfect specimen that was the Soldier’s soul mate.

The Soldier came to the Howling Commandos portion of the exhibit and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his own face peering out from one of the walls. All thoughts of Steve or the elusive “to the end of the line” faded away and he stepped up to the wall with his bio on it.

The Soldier had to read it three times until he truly understood it.

It said his name was James Buchanan Barnes.

“Bucky,” he whispered and in his mind he heard the Captain’s voice calling out the name.

It stated that he was an American.

The waving of a flag and the flash of fireworks accompanied the revelation. A recollected Fourth of July celebration he speculated.

It said he grew up with the Captain.

Something he already knew from the other memories but still a memory of chasing Steve down a hallway came to him. They entered a kitchen and a blonde woman greeted them with a warm smile.

It said they were best friends.

And he remembered making a promise to never leave his side.

It said nothing about them being soul mates. But how could that be possible? Could they potentially not be soulmates? The Captain had said that they were but the Soldier had yet to remember anything that proclaimed they were. They were lovers at one point but was their bond truly the strength of soul mates?

He stepped off to the side to get out of the traffic of bodies and peered down at his right arm. The implant was still blank, attesting to his having a soul mate. Could the museum be wrong?

His head hurt more just thinking about it so he moved on to the rest of the exhibit.

He stopped in his tracks again as he peered at a picture of the Howling Commandos.

The next memory was so potent that he was literally thrust into it and the museum and its goings disappeared.

 

_“Bucky? How—?...What are you doing?”_

_Timothy “Dum-Dum” Dugan had half risen out of his seat when the Soldier suddenly appeared out of the shadows of the dark living room. The flickering television was the only light source in the room but they could both easily see each other._

_The old man was shocked by his appearance in his apartment but, despite the overwhelming surprise in his countenance, he had strangely smiled at the Soldier…until he noticed the gun. As Dugan stared down the barrel of the gun, his gentle smile slipped off his face and was replaced with shock and fear._

_Dugan lifted his gaze from the gun and looked pleadingly at the Soldier. The Soldier pointed it at the old man’s head and pulled the trigger._

The Soldier fell back into his body and he stumbled back from the picture to escape the affect it had on him but another memory hit him.

 

_The Soldier strolled up to the burning car. The woman was dead. She wasn’t wearing a seatbelt and had been thrown from the car but her husband, Howard Stark, was weakly struggling with the car door. He stopped when the Soldier blocked the light from the sun and his shadow was cast over him._

_Stark peered up at him and begged, “Please – Bucky, I –.”_

_The Soldier reached in and slammed Stark’s head into the wheel. Stark jerked back upon the impact so the Soldier slammed it twice more and the man finally slumped forward. The_ _Soldier walked away without looking back. If Stark miraculously survived the blows to his head, then the resounding explosion from the burning engine ended him._

The Soldier backpedaled backward, hitting people and getting caught in the line of two camera sites. Something was building within him, something huge and as destructive as a hurricane.

He had to get out of there.

He ran and was drawing attention to himself but he did not care. He tripped and fell and another memory assaulted him.

 

_Gabriel Jones was leaving church with his family. The Soldier watched him slowly make his way down the steps, being pulled on one had by his impatient grandson._

_Jones and the three generations of his family, consisting of over a dozen people, were walking home as the Soldier stalked them. Jones was addled by arthritis so he was walking several feet behind the rest of the group. His grandson was the only one walking with him and was chatting away._

_His master wanted the death to look random so the soldier stepped up behind him and growled loud enough for the little boy to hear, “Give me your wallet.”_

_A second later, he stabbed Jones in the neck and ran. The screams of his family followed him in his wake._

The Soldier surfaced to a group of people peering down at him worriedly. He was laying on the floor.

“Are you alright, Sir?” A museum docent asked him.

The Soldier did not reply and surged to his feet and ran out of there before another memory could incapacitate him.

He pushed himself harder than he ever had before and did not stop until he found obscurity in the shadows of an empty alley. Once there he fell to his knees and clutched his head. These memories – these deaths – were different. They were worse. They hurt him.

They…They were his friends. He murdered them.

The Soldier’s vision blurred and he flinched as he felt hot tears roll down his checks.

A wall that had been built inside of him crumbled away and, like a dam, it unleashed a powerful wave of emotions. The Soldier did not notice his headache get washed away with it because years of repressed guilt, horror, and pain hit him all at once.

For the first time in his existence, the Soldier saw the truth. He was not the machine he thought himself nor the human he once was and was just learning of…He was a callous monster, a beast…and no longer deserved what he once had…Steve included.

\---

Natasha slipped Steve a sedative that knocked him out for a few hours and forced him to sleep. It muddled his mind so, as he woke, he forgot where he was and mumbled, “Bucky?”

He reached out beside him but, instead of touching his husband’s warm form, his hand hit the hard plastic bar of his hospital bed.

Steve sat up and then swung his legs out of the bed.

He was not going to spend another night separated from Bucky.

Sam was gone but in his seat, of all people, was Tony Stark. Clint was also there and leaned heavily into his soul mate with a protective arm around Natasha’s shoulders. Clint’s face was cut up but he looked relatively fine after taking on the dozen Hydra agents sent to kill him at the base he had been stationed.

Natasha sat next to Tony in the other chair and he had been quietly whispering to the former SHIELD agents when Steve woke. Natasha jumped to her feet when Steve got out of bed. Clint moved fluidly with her to stick to her side and remain in contact. Natasha automatically grasped his hand. Usually the couple were low-key about their relationship but, with both almost dying, Steve couldn’t blame either for wanting the contact…it was what he wanted with Bucky.

“Steve!” Natasha hissed disapprovingly, freeing him from his distraction.

“I need to find Bucky,” Steve stated in explanation.

Tony also got to his feet and gasped, “It’s the middle of the night, Cap!”

“And he’s out there!” Steve countered.

Natasha grabbed his arm and Clint stated, “While you slept, there was a sighting.”

Steve jolted to a stop and spun around on them. He demanded, “Where?? Is he okay?”

“Come back to the room, sit on the bed, and we’ll fill you in,” Natasha whispered.

Steve surged back into the room and went straight back to his bed. He did not lay back down but sat on the edge and demanded, “Where is he?”

“He was at the Smithsonian,” Tony supplied. “Natasha filled me in on everything that had happened after the helicarriers fell and I got Jarvis hacking all the cameras in the area looking for the guy. I thought he had left the city until he showed up at the museum.”

Tony held out his tablet to Steve and he saw there was some footage waiting to be played. When he pressed the play button, Tony stepped next to him and murmured, “He’s the one in the baseball cap.”

Steve’s eyes focused on the figure. Bucky’s head was downturned so the cap obscured his face but Steve would be able to recognize that body anywhere.

“That’s the Captain America exhibit,” Steve murmured and his hope welled in his chest. Was he remembering? Was he trying to remember?

But why didn’t he just come back to Steve?

Bucky suddenly jumped back, exposing his face and looking ill. He eventually tripped over his own feet and fell. He shook on the floor for a few seconds then went still. He was surrounded by concerned people and, without any warning, he leapt to his feet and fled like a frightened animal.

“What happened?”

Tony took back his tablet and supplied, “The bystanders said he did not say a word but he was looking at this display.”

Tony turned his tablet back to Steve, displaying the introductory wall of the Howling Commandos section of the exhibit.

“He must have triggered a memory,” Steve murmured as his brows knitted together in thought. Were all the memories he recollected so violent? He looked back to Tony and asked, “Do you know where he went?”

Tony shook his head and replied, “I can only tell you what exit he used. From there he disappeared.”

“Then we need to set up a grid and start searching,” Steve stated, slipping off the bed.

“And the doctor’s recommended bedrest?” Natasha asked with a hint of aspiration.

“Negligible,” Steve retorted, making Tony snort.

“I like this new side of you, Cap,” Tony stated. “Can I take part in the fun? I’m really sour you left me out of the helicarrier debacle.”

Steve rolled his eyes and said, “Next time one of my ancient enemies infiltrates the world’s strongest defense organization, I’ll be sure to include you.”

“And this time perhaps you’ll pick up when we call,” Natasha added with a smirk.

“Touché,” Tony murmured.

Steve smiled at his friends and said, “Let’s start looking.”

\---

Bucky.

It was his name.

But it was another life…

When he woke the next morning, everything seemed to be falling into place. He did not remember everything but he had enough to understand.

The Winter Soldier was not his only identity.

His birth name was James but his friends called him Bucky but he was no longer the Bucky he once was.

The man depicted in exhibit and whose eyes he looked through in his memories, was good, he was wholesome…he was not a murderer.

Steve was looking for him but he did not want him to find him. Steve was looking for the Bucky he used to know and that Bucky had been beaten, burned, ripped, and sliced into a tiny thing only to reemerge from blood and death as what he is now.

Bucky may not remember Steve wholly but he remembered enough to care for the man. He did not want to hurt him so he hid from him. If Steve found Bucky, he would be devastated by what he found. The man he had loved was gone and the person he was now was something he might not like.

So Bucky avoided Steve as he and his teammates began their search. Bucky made sure to always be three steps ahead of them.

He still did not know the meaning of “the end of the line” but he could do one thing for his soul mate at least: protect him.

Hydra was still out there and Bucky was going to kill every single one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bucky...nothing more can go wrong for you at least... or can it? >:D  
> Thanks for reading! :3
> 
> Next time, Chapter 8: Lost


	8. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned, archive warnings in use ahead...

Originally, Bucky started to hunt the Hydra agents to protect Steve. Yet, as he slowly but steadily regained his memories, and remembered what they did to him and what they forced him to do…he started to relish killing them.

His memories provided him with the identities to Hydra agents and their safe houses. The ones he remembered having any connections to his imprisonment or brainwashing suffered the worst of all.

He burned away all the evidence, the bodies, and the bases. It made it easier for Steve to track him but Bucky was cautious and made sure to leave nothing behind that would lead him to where he was.

His main concern was Natasha Romanoff. She was trained like him. She was better able to guess where he would go so Bucky had to start thinking out of the box to throw her off his trial.

Between missions, he watched Steve from a distance.

Steve looked like he was always tired and Bucky wondered if he was getting enough sleep. Steve and the others traveled incognito, wearing civilian clothes as they searched for him. Whenever they went into the bases, they still dressed similarly but were joined by government agents.

Steve looked just like the man from his memories in World War II with the exception of his hair, he had cut off the fringe of his bangs. Bucky used to love how his blond tresses fell over his face but…Steve’s handsome face was easier to see now so he did not really mind.

His feelings toward Steve grew more confusing as more memories returned. Memories of their combined past made him love him more but…memories of his life as the Winter Soldier reminded him how broken he was.

Some days were bad. His mind could not handle the realities of his past. Those days he’d black out and remember nothing, or curl into a ball and turn into a sobbing mess, or, worse, slip into his Winter Soldier state and become unfeeling.

There were so many times when he held one of his guns up to his forehead with the safety off and his finger on the trigger. It would have been so easy to pull the trigger, to end it all…Yet, he always held his gun with his right hand and he had to stare at his soul implant as he contemplated his end. Steve would know the moment he took his life…and Bucky could never do that to Steve.

So he kept moving on. He kept killing. He kept avoiding Steve.

Hydra had bases across the globe but Bucky was reluctant to leave his country. He spoke with no one but he liked to listen to people talk. He’d sit in diners for hours and listen to the English with fond feelings. His favorite accents were the elusive Brooklyn accents but anything with an obvious American hue was soothing after years of the Russian voices. Since he started his hunt, he heard the Brooklyn accent only twice.

One of those times was when he fought with Steve…

Bucky was watching Steve through his stolen binoculars. He lay on his belly and was hidden by the overgrowth of some foliage.

Steve and the others were exploring the motel room Bucky had bunkered down in the week prior. When Steve was in the room, Bucky only saw snippets of him, an elbow here, a scuffle of his feet there. He watched it all with a frown. He liked to see Steve entirely in order to know he was alright. The light blue coloring of his eyes also put him at ease.

This particular motel room was on the second floor and there was a railed walkway which was outside the door. Steve suddenly burst out of the room and ran into that very railway.

Bucky tensed and leaned forward, trying to get closer to his soul mate just in case he needed him.

Steve was hyperventilating and gripping the railing tightly with his hands. Bucky frantically scanned the area, searching for the reason for Steve’s upset but saw nothing abnormal. Natasha walked up to Steve’s side and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder but Steve jerked it off. She walked back into the room, leaving Steve alone. Bucky watched with a sharp pain to his heart as Steve lifted his head and rubbed at his face, whipping away any stray tears.

Never before had Bucky so desperately wanted to hold Steve until that moment.

Steve’s eyes spanned the area in front of the motel. When his eyes passed over where Bucky was, he froze but Steve’s eyes continued to move across the landscape. Eventually, his gaze settled and he whispered something to himself.

An expert lip reader, Bucky clearly read him asking, “Where are you Bucky?”

Bucky ducked his head shamefully and lay the binoculars on the ground.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and whispered, “Stop looking for me, Steve.”

But he knew Steve would not stop. If Bucky were in his place, he would be doing the same thing.

Bucky lifted his binoculars and refocused on his husband’s sad face.

That’s it. This was the last time he would watch Steve become upset by his search. He needed to dissuade Steve in his efforts.

That night, Steve and the others bunkered down at the motel like they usually did when they found a place Bucky had stayed. They all got their own rooms which was an oddity to Bucky. Why separate from one another? There was safety in numbers.

Bucky tucked the questions away as he stalked up to the motel. He had an idea how to discourage Steve but it involved going to the door of his room and Bucky needed his upmost concentration when sneaking up to it.

It was the middle of the night and everyone slept soundly behind their sealed doors. Bucky reached Steve’s door and stared at the wooden barrier with a hard stare.

This was the closest Bucky had been to Steve since he last saw him, after pulling him out of the Potomac. He had to only be a few feet away. His entire being yearned to tear open the door and throw himself into Steve’s arms. He wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to revel in his warmth and feel safe again in his embrace.

He wanted what they once had…but that could never happen.

Bucky dropped his head and sighed. He needed to do this and then leave before he made a horrible mistake.

Bucky pulled the letter out of his pocket and slipped it under the door as carefully as possible. The letter slid under the door with not a sound and, with its disappearance, he felt at ease.

No longer will he have to lust nor worry after Steve… The letter will fix everything. The letter will deter Steve from his hunt.

Bucky slipped away and his heart became as heavy as a boulder.

\---

Steve did not wake, in fact, he did not truly sleep. He never fully slipped into unconsciousness but it was something he was growing used to. Sleeping without Bucky at his side was near impossible. He worried and fretted all night about his husband. Where was he sleeping? Was he safe? Was he hurt? Didn’t he miss Steve as much as Steve did him?

Steve sighed heavily into his pillow and sat up with a light groan. He rubbed his forehead to dispel the beginnings of a headache.

That morning was going to be another long one of arduous searching, interviewing, and looking over the video files Tony marked as important. They really would not get anywhere until Bucky struck again and then the process would start all over again. In the weeks since they began, it seems like they got no closer.

Steve slid out of the bed and went to the bathroom. He splashed his face with water and felt a little better for it.

He strolled back into the bedroom then halted mid-step as his eyes focused on the paper at the base of his door. He immediately knew who it was from and his heart lodged in his throat.

Steve lunged for the letter and hastily unfolded it.

He read:

_Stop following me._

_Go home._

_We cannot be together._

Steve reread the few words several times before finally understanding their meaning and the paper slipped from his fingers.

His eyes heated at his tears threatened to express his grief. He pushed it all away and glared at the paper. He stomped on it and proceeded outside. He ran into the railing and directed his glare to the horizon.

“NEVER!” He yelled, “I WILL _NEVER_ STOP FOLLOWING YOU. I CAN _NEVER_ GO HOME! AND WE WILL ALWAYS BE TOGETHER, NO MATTER WHAT!”

Natasha, Clint, and Sam burst from their rooms as well as a few other guests to the motel. They all looked ready to fight with weapons drawn but when they saw he was yelling at no one they relaxed and looked at him peculiarly. Tony’s delayed appearance came as groggily poked his head out and yawned loudly.

Steve frowned one last time at the horizon and then spun on his heel and reentered his room without a word of explanation to the others. He picked up the letter and almost crushed it but he stopped himself.

Bucky wrote this.

Steve traced the words. The letters were a little bolder than what he was used to but he still recognized Bucky’s writing. Steve lifted the letter up to his face and smelled the paper, searching for the faintest scent of his soul mate. He smelt nothing and pressed his face into the paper, gasping, “You damn jerk. Goddamn, jerk. Damn, jerk…I would never give up on you so easily.”

\---

Bucky was having one of his bad days.

It was triggered by Steve’s exclamation which he did not need to read his lips to understand. He had heard it all the way from his hiding spot.

As Steve and his teammates scoured the local town for clues, Bucky was pacing back and forth muttering darkly to himself.

“Why won’t he go? I was blunt. I expressed no emotion!” He turned to a tree and demanded, “WHY WON’T HE GIVE UP?!”

The tree wisely did not reply.

Come nightfall, Bucky had worked himself into a nearly manic state. When Steve and the others returned to the motel, Bucky jumped back onto his binoculars. He watched Steve, almost hungrily. Even downtrodden, his husband still elicited passions from him.

Time passed and, one by one, the lights went out in the motel rooms. One of the last to go out was Steve’s. Bucky dropped his binoculars and narrowed his eyes as he glared across the expanse of land.

If Steve did not heed his letter then maybe he would better heed the letter if it was delivered in person.

Bucky shot to his feet and marched over to the motel.

Despite his burning temper, he was still able to move with stealth and slipped up to Steve’s room as quiet as the waning of the moon. Picking the lock required only a slight click which he masked with the sound of a rickety truck rumbling by.

He slid into the room quickly and sealed the door behind him.

There was Steve, laid out in the bed, none the wiser to his presence. All his anger left him as he beheld Steve’s relaxed form. He held a handful of memories of seeing the same thing yet nothing compared to the real thing.

Bucky stalked over to the bed on the balls of his feet and paused next to his bedside. He peered down at Steve, taking in his appearance. Even in sleep he looked tired. Steve had to stop this for his own good.

Bucky reached out and grasped Steve’s shoulder. All he intended to do was wake Steve and repeat the message. Yet Steve reacted on instinct to there being an intruder in his room and grabbed the wrist on his shoulder, pulling Bucky down, and then pinning Bucky on the bed. Bucky retaliated to the violent move instantly and punched him across the jaw. They struggled for a few moments, each trying to get control over the other.

Bucky rolled on top of Steve and pinned him down. Holding him down by the throat with one hand and holding down one arm with another. Bucky was hunched over him but was high enough to be hit by the dim light being cast from the window and Steve froze when he realized exactly who was in his bed.

Both of them huffing for breath, they stared at each other in shock. Neither of them expected this.

Bucky removed his arm from Steve’s throat and Steve went to move in closer but Bucky pushed him down by the face. He kept his hand on his jaw to keep him immobile.

The words he needed to say were spinning circles in his head. But he was still catching his breath and reasoned he needed to deliver the words clearly…It was not because the press of Steve’s body against his felt amazing.

“Bucky?” Steve whispered, his lush lips brushing against two of his fingers as he spoke.

With his breathing becoming shallower, Bucky stared at that mouth. He remembered its taste. Without a second thought, he gave into instinct as he sprang down to consume it whole.

Steve groaned and opened his mouth to him. It was one thousand times better than he remembered. _He missed this_!

Steve went to wrap his arms around Bucky but Bucky pinned his arms down forcibly. He had to be in control. Steve complied with the arms but was assertive with his mouth, demanding attention for his lips and a battle for his tongue.

Bucky complied with a growl and he felt Steve shiver in response.

Bucky pulled away to catch his breath and Steve’s arms twitched, as if to stop him from pulling away. Bucky hissed and flipped Steve over onto his stomach and pinned his arms behind him as if to handcuff him.

They were gasping for breath again. Steve was looking at him with one eye from behind the mass of his shoulder and Bucky stared back.

He should have left at that moment. He was only supposed to have said his piece and left. None of this was supposed to have happened.

Lust had hazed his mind and made him dizzy.

The beast that he had been fighting all day took the opportunity to recapture his mind. Bucky groaned as his skull felt like it was expanding beneath his skin. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead into Steve’s back.

He had to stop. He had to fight this. He could so easily kill Steve. The monster in his mind was whispering how easy it could be from this position. A simple breaking of the neck.

“…Bucky?” Steve whispered, his voice so trusting and naïve. He began to push at Bucky’s hold.

Bucky’s head shot up and he repined Steve with a vicious growl.

“Okay!” Steve gasped compliantly and went limp beneath him.

Bucky peered down at him. His beautiful soul mate. He should leave…but he wasn’t going to, not anymore.

Bucky ran his hand down Steve’s back with his metal hand. The white cotton shirt he wore made the metal look darker than usual. When his hand reached the bottom of the shirt, just reaching the swell of his ass, Bucky grasped the end with both hands and ripped it in two.

Steve inhaled sharply but did not move, even when Bucky ran both hands down his back. Muscles rippled beneath his touch.

If he did this, he needed to be in complete control. Without it, the Winter Solider may surface and complete his mission to kill Captain America.

He stretched out over his soul mate, matching the contours of his body to Steve’s. He nestled his already hard cock in the juncture of his ass and rutted himself into Steve.

Steve bit back another moan but the muffled sound made his cock throb.

Bucky pressed his still fully clothed body against Steve’s bare back and reached his hand down under him. He ran his hand down Steve’s chest, rode the slope of his abdomen, and then grasped the boxers that kept him decent. With one sharp tug he was able to tear off the underwear and rid Steve of his final barrier. He tossed the remnants of his clothing aside. He ran his hand over Steve’s exposed cock and was glad to find him already hard. Steve wanted Bucky just as much as Bucky wanted him.

Steve was panting again and was groaning his name.

“Buckyyy.”

Bucky slammed Steve’s top half down into the bed and then guided Steve’s hips up. He unbuckled his pants and pulled himself out. He positioned the head of his cock at his hole and all at once Steve grew silent.

“Wait, Buck,” Steve whispered and tried to push himself up. Bucky slammed his front half down to kept his hips in position.

Bucky needed to keep control. He was not going to kill Steve.

But Steve instantly struggled and gasped, “No! No, wait – you can’t!”

Bucky growled and pinned him under the strength of his metal arm. He grabbed his cock again and pressed against Steve’s cheeks. Steve continued to struggle.

“No!” Steve gasped and Bucky pushed in.

Steve let out a sound that was a combination of a grunt and a smothered gasp. His body trembled beneath Bucky, encouraged, Bucky began to hump him, fucking his cock in and out of him. He was so tight. Bucky could barely keep his head together as the pleasure started to overtake him.

Steve hissed upon every thrust, his fingers straggling the sheets beneath his hands. He kept gasping something under his breath with nearly every thrust. Bucky leaned down, trailing kisses down his spine until he was close enough to hear him.

“No. No. No. No.”

Bucky froze. Did he hear him right?

“Please, stop,” Steve gasped and Bucky recognized the tenor of pain that shook his voice.

Bucky sat up sharply. He was still connected to Steve but he peered down at his lover in shock. In all his memories, Steve never asked him to stop.

He peered down at the man and realized his trembling was not from passion but the repression of sobs. Tears were already in Steve’s eyes but his gaze was blocked by crushed eyelids. Steve’s hands clutched at the blankets in similar pain.

Seeing Steve like this was like a bucket of cold water being splashed over him.

What was wrong?

Bucky pulled himself out of him and he leaned away from Steve, trying to figure out what was wrong.

That was when he saw the blood dripping down Steve’s thighs.

Bucky stared blankly at the blood, not understanding, until it came to him like a bullet to the head.

He didn’t prepare him.

He didn’t use lubricant.

Bucky stared at the blood in shock. How did he forget about that?

He looked back to Steve’s face but Steve had curled up and buried his face into a pillow.

Bucky reached out to him then jerked back his hand and his eyes went back to the blood. A memory flashed in his mind and it was accompanied by a short burst of pain.

 

_“Pull it out! Pull it out!” Bucky hissed as his ass felt like it was being ripped in two._

_“I barely got the head in,” Steve gasped, his voice pained from holding back._

_“Stevie, it hurts! Stop!”_

_Steve immediately pulled out and Bucky’s entire lower body relaxed. Steve fell forward onto Bucky’s back, his lightweight frame barely registered, and murmured, “We needed to find something that will help me slide right in.”_

_Bucky turned around and wound his arms around Steve. He promised, “We’ll figure it out someday.”_

_“…I’m sorry I hurt you,” Steve whispered into his chest._

_“It was nothing,” Bucky stated, kissing his damp forehead. “You didn’t mean to.”_

Bucky scrambled off the bed, feeling sick to his stomach.

From what he could remember, when they were first making love as teenagers, they never hurt each other to such an extent. Neither of them _ever_ bled.

Steve said no. Steve told him to stop. But Bucky – Bucky didn’t – Bucky practically raped him. His eyes focused on the blood and he reassessed the statement: no, he had raped Steve.

Bucky tucked himself back into his pants and flinched when he felt blood on his cock. He ran to the door but jerked to a stop when Steve yelled out, “BUCK!”

Bucky sluggishly turned back to Steve and saw him sitting upright in the bed, clutching the sheets pathetically to his chest.

Bucky met his red, watery eyes and instantly wanted to weep for him.

Bucky whispered, “I am no longer the man you know. All I do is hurt people now. It’s all I’m good for. I’ll just end up hurting you again. Leave Steve, go home, and forget about me.”

He opened the door and Steve gasped, “I can’t!” Bucky paused and looked back to him. Steve continued, “I don’t have a home to go back to, Bucky…You—you are my home.”

Bucky flinched and then peered guiltily down at his feet. He whispered, “I’m too broken to be anyone’s home.”

He fled before Steve could make any more excuses for him.

\---

Steve backend throbbed for only an hour. Whatever damage Bucky had done was healed within that time.

Steve did not give chase when Bucky fled. He simply lay back into the bed and his breath began to hitch again, slowly at first but then he was hyperventilating the sharp outbursts of breath until he was full-on sobbing.

He did not know how to react to what just happened.

He had been aroused by Bucky’s touch, hopeful by his appearance, confused by his mannerisms, scared by his refusal to stop, angry by the betrayal, shocked by the blood but, mostly he was hurt that he did not listen. His body’s automatic response was to weep so he did just that.

His physical pain may have disappeared but the emotional battering didn’t…and it was worse than his reaction to Bucky attacking him on the helicarrier.

He tried to sort out what happened and make excuses for Bucky…but the hurt he caused did not feel justifiable. Steve wanted to lash out and scream at Bucky. He wanted to demand whatever being that inhabited his body to go away and the old Bucky return.

He stewed over Bucky for what felt like no time at all but the night disappeared and the sun rose without his notice.

His friends waited at first, probably glad he was finally getting some decent sleep. Yet, come noon, they finally checked in on him.

There was a light knock on his door and then Clint questioned, “Steve?”

Steve flinched. He could not let them see him like this: naked with blood still on his thighs and, for all intents and purposes, broken.

“I-I need another hour,” Steve garbled, scrambling out of the bed.

“…Alright. We’re going to grab lunch at the diner. Want anything?”

His stomach revolted at the thought but, to not make them suspicious, he replied, “Yes, please. Th-The usual!”

“Okay, see you in an hour!” He called out and their footsteps walked away from his door. Steve listened until he heard them hit the stairs and then fell into the wall with a relieved sigh. He leaned into the wall collecting his thoughts for a few minutes then forced himself into action.

The first thing he did was go into the bathroom and turn on the shower. He went straight in without changing the temperature. The cold water stabbed into his skin like pins and needles but it took him longer than usual to adjust it. For the first couple of minutes, Steve stood under the spray with his face upturned and his eyes closed. The water washed over his face and the front half of his body. It relaxed him and he was able to breathe for the first time in hours.

Next he washed himself which had never before been so hard. The water was not strong enough to wash away all of the blood so Steve had to bend over and wash away what was left. His breathing became shallow again as he remembered the feel of the hot blood running down his thighs and Bucky thrusting into him without a care.

His lower half did not feel clean, even when it had been cleared of all the blood. He made himself stop scrubbing at his skin and his shallow breathing evolved into crying again. He leaned into the tile and slowly slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground.

He buried his head in his arms and cursed the Winter Soldier with every fiber of his being.

It was at that moment, Steve knew he could not do this anymore.

Searching for Bucky was killing him and if the end result was this – this hurt – then he did not want it.

Bucky was dead. The man who had forced himself on Steve last night was not him.

They may have been soul mates once but...with the passage of time and the drastic evolution of both their lives, maybe their status as soul mates had changed too. Maybe they were no longer meant to be together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Och...boys, why must you hurt each other so much? Oh, because I make you! Hehehehe
> 
> Believe it or not, I'm predicting two more chapters! I can't believe I'm almost done!! :O
> 
> That being said, I just got accepted into an internship and I start next week. It's going to make my life super busy so the last chapters will take a little longer to get out! SORRY! DX  
> I have already started on the next chapter and I plan to cram as much writing in as I can before I start!
> 
> Next time, Ch. 9: Found


	9. Found

All Steve could hear was the constant drum from the pour of the water jetting out of the showerhead. So when Steve’s friends knocked, he did not hear them. Nor did he hear them breakdown the front door but he did hear the bathroom door slam open.

Natasha was never one for caring about social niceties, so despite his indecency, she ripped open the shower curtains. Steve was still sitting on the floor with his legs drawn up to his chest, hiding his genitals from view. She and Sam both had their guns drawn, Clint had his bow, and Tony had his laptop raised up like he was going to bash someone over the head. All of their eyes instantly spanned over Steve’s form.

“Were you hurt? Whose blood was that on the bed?” Natasha demanded.

Steve winced. He had forgotten about the blood on the sheets. He looked away from the others as shame burned into his cheeks. He whispered into the tile, “It was mine.”

One by one, everyone holstered their weapons and exchanged concerned glances. Natasha reached into the shower to turn off the water and Sam grabbed the white towel off the hook and dragged it over Steve’s shoulders.

“What happened Steve? Was it Barnes?” Sam asked gently, softly rubbing his shoulder.

Steve trembled under his touch and he had to stop breathing in order to halt the sobs that strangled his throat. The need to cry pressed upon him in a powerful wave and as soon as that wave washed over him he whispered, “It was him and-and…but I do not want to talk about it.”

He clutched the towel tightly around his shoulders and avoided their eyes. He felt all of them staring at him.

Eventually, Clint murmured, “I am going to set up a grid.” And went to leave.

“No need,” Steve stated as he got to his feet. He looked at them with a dead expression and stated, “Pack up. We're leaving.”

“…Where are we going now?” Tony asked.

Steve stepped past them and into the bedroom. They followed him out. His eyes avoided the bed and he went to his duffel. Steve answered Tony’s question by replying, “Back to New York, to Avengers’ Tower.”

As Steve collected clothes to change in, Natasha sarcastically retorted, “So Barnes cut you then said he’d meet us at the Tower?”

Steve hunched his shoulders and his hands paused in their collecting. He replied slowly, “I do not know where Bucky is but I am not going to look for him anymore…”

A shocked silence emulated from his friends.

“S-Steve?” Clint garbled in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. He’s your soul mate! We can’t give up over a little spilled blood! Natasha and I were supposed to kill each other but we’re still together.”

Steve picked up his clothes and stepped between them to enter the bathroom. He closed the door in their faces then dropped the towel.

He could hear them whispering to each other. He put all his concentration into dressing and blocked out what they were saying.

When he reopened the door, Natasha stepped in front of him and demanded, “What happened?”

The moment replayed in his mind but he was numb to it at this point. He knew he was going into shock. The trauma was so great that Steve’s body was shutting down his emotions to block out any more damage that could occur.

He stared at Natasha blankly. How was he supposed to answer her question? He could barely define it himself. He could have handled it if Bucky physically attacked him, he had lived through Bucky’s punches before but this…this assault was on not just his body but his heart as well. It finally broke under the pressure.

Steve duck his head and stepped past her, avoiding her eyes as he avoided her question. He went to his duffel bag and stuffed away any loose articles inside which the exception of his sleep clothes from last night…those he left where Bucky threw them.

“Steve?” Sam questioned. “What happened?”

Steve hefted the duffel on his shoulder and stated, “I am tired…Please…Can we go?”

He finally looked back to his friends and met their sad expressions. He pleaded with his eyes for them to not ask anything. Sam and Tony relented by dropping their heads in defeat but Natasha and Clint stubbornly did not look away and their eyes held promise that they were not going to drop this. Steve nodded, mostly to himself. It was the best he would get at this point.

“I’ll check us out,” Steve said and exited the room, leaving behind his friends and all bad memories.

The air was cold despite it being later in the afternoon. Clouds blocked out the light of the sun and there was a hint of dampness in the air that alluded to the coming of rain. Steve paused in his doorway and closed his eyes as he inhaled the moist scent.

The last time he had inhaled such air was in a forest in France decades prior. It had been early morning and he was snuggled into Bucky’s side to keep warm in their flimsy tent.

Steve took a steadying breath. He was not going to think like this. He was moving on.

Steve adjusted his hold on his duffel and started walking down the walkway to the stairs. Behind him, Steve heard the others exit his room and felt their eyes on him.

Another guest was coming from the opposite direction so Steve stepped to the right to give the man enough room. He expected the man to keep on walking by but he grabbed Steve’s arm. Steve jolted to a stop and looked to the man questionably. It was not the first time a fan had grabbed him in such a way and he wearily expected having to sign an autograph and take a few pictures.

“Cut off one head and two more take its place,” the man hissed holding up his other hand, displaying a trigger for the bomb he had hidden on him.

Lead dropped into Steve’s gut and the man released the mechanism.

\---

Bucky’s knuckles were raw from decimating the entire outlying area of his camp. He had to have fractured some bones in his hands but he did not care.

He had hurt Steve.

Bucky roared and slammed his fists into the ground.

The look on his face…Bucky whined and leaned into his fists, bowing to the ground.

Bucky had never thought about the future past his mission but, locked away, in the deepest corners of his mind, he had hoped…

He punched the ground again and roared at the dirt. He kept screaming until his voice ran hoarse and the air ran out of his lungs.

He kept replaying last night in his head like a dreaded horror movie. New memories accompanied it, all of them were of men forcing themselves on Bucky. He had raped Steve just as those disgusting men had done to Bucky. Bucky gagged just thinking about it.

But the worst thing about it all was the look of utter betrayal in Steve’s eyes.

When Bucky almost killed him on the helicarrier, he showed no sign of betrayal, just resignation and weariness. But now Bucky had taken one of the most precious things he and Steve once shared and tarnished it with blood and pain.

Steve would never look at him with those hopeful eyes again.

From now on, he will only regard Bucky with hurt because there was no way Steve was going to forgive him for this…

An explosion jarred Bucky from that train of thought and his head snapped up in the direction of the blast. A bulbous cloud was rising and its base obscured the detonation zone with a dirty fog. The detonation zone was the motel.

“Steve,” Bucky gasped, lunging forward. Any normal person would have regarded the explosion with disbelief but Bucky was running toward the motel without a second thought.

All his self-hate and anger disappeared and Bucky only had one thought: save or protect Steve.

The motel was being surrounded by Hydra agents. Bucky killed the first he came across then hunched down and looked for Steve.

The fog was still thick with ash and figures moved in it, seemingly undiscernible, but Bucky knew by the way they moved that none of them were Steve. On missions as the Winter Soldier, Bucky was always disconnected and perfectly poised. He was almost like a robot in his unfeeling and calm nature…Yet, as he surveyed the scene and did not see Steve, his heartrate began to rise.

Where was Steve?

Bucky got to his feet and began to systematically cut off Hydra agents with shots to the head. Thanks to the fog, the agents had no idea where the shots were coming from and those who were close enough to see him were immediately cut down.

Bucky moved quickly to the motel, heading straight for Steve’s room…only, the stairs that led to it were gone.

As Bucky stared at the mangled remains, that side of him that remained calm under pressure broke. Steve was there and now he could be… he could be…

All his years as the Winter Soldier never prepared him for this sensation.

Terror flooded his entire body, locking his limbs and stilting his breath.

“STEVE?!” Bucky screamed, the named tearing at his throat.

A Hydra agent came running toward him out of the fog and Bucky shot him as soon as he appeared. He could hear more running toward him but he did not care.

Steve wasn’t answering.

Bucky immediately thought the worst but dashed the thought quickly from his head. Steve was his soul mate and had he died his implant would have zeroed out. He was still alive…but, for how much longer? Could Steve be bleeding out right now?

Bucky started to breathe shallowly as his fear threatened to consume him whole.

He scrambled closer to the motel and screamed with more alarm, “ _STEVIE_?!”

“Barnes!”

Bucky spun on his heel. That was Romanov. Where was she? Was Steve with her? Why hadn’t Steve called out to him??

Romanov yelled out their location in Russian and Bucky ran over to them.

He really only needed to follow the gunshots. When he came upon the team, they were pinned down behind an upturned car by three Hydra operatives. Bucky shot all three in the back of the head as he ran and did not have to break stride as he took aim.

Romanov, Barton, and Wilson peeked over the car as the shots stopped and luckily did not draw on Bucky as he bound over the car a moment later.

Wilson stated something but Bucky did not hear him. He did not even notice the hidden Stark, typing furiously on his laptop. He was completely focused on Steve.

His soul mate must have been near the blast because his left shoulder and back had been burned. He was too injured to fight and was laying on his side on the ground, stubbornly holding his shield and a gun.

Steve’s eyes widened when Bucky appeared and they stared at each other for an indiscriminate amount of time. So many emotions flickered in Steve’s eyes but the most prevalent was hurt…and Bucky knew it was not caused by the current physical pain he must have been in.

Bucky slowly knelt next to Steve and gently placed his hand on Steve’s left hand, the one devoid of a gun. Beneath his fingers, he felt Steve’s wedding band. Bucky was so shocked he moved his hand aside and peered at the gold band.

He gasped, “You’re still wearing it?”

Steve’s eyes flickered down to his hand and an unreadable expression crossed his face. Steve’s eyes met his again and he asked, “Should I remove it?”

Bucky lifted his hand to peer more closely at the wedding band. He ignored Steve’s question as he recognized the tarnished gold. He gasped, “This is the one I gave you…” Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes and he gasped, “You still have it.”

Bucky brought the hand up to his face and cupped the appendage to his face, pressing the gold into the flesh of his cheek. Steve allowed his hand to be pressed into Bucky’s check for only a moment but then he gently pulled his hand out of his grasp. Bucky felt as if Steve were ripping a piece of his soul away with him but he did not stop him from pulling away. Bucky did not deserve Steve’s touch.

Bucky wiped the tears out of his eyes and he looked away from Steve.

He cocked his gun and asked the others, “What’s the situation?”

Everyone stared at him in shock, as if they truly did not believe he was there. Bucky avoided looking at Stark, who looked so much like his father, and focused his eyes on Romanov.

“Hydra sent in a suicide bomber to take Steve out,” Romanov informed him. “But Steve kicked the man away before he could do any damage.”

Bucky frowned and his eyes flickered to Steve’s wounds. He didn’t care about the extent of injury, Hydra _had_ inflicted damage. Bucky turned back Romanov and growled, “I’ll kill them.”

“Good, cause there’s always a third wave,” Natasha stated, turning back to the open area with her gun. Bucky slid next to her, pulling his rifle off his back, and raising the scope to his eye. On his other side was Wilson and the soldier regarded him awkwardly before raising his own gun and pointing it out. Barton was on Romanov’s other side and he was muffling snickers under his breath.

“If I had known all we needed to draw you out was Cap getting a little burned then we should have done this weeks ago,” Stark murmured.

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve groaned.

“This is the longest I have gone without Pep and even she is getting grumpy,” Stark whined.

“…You can return to her after this fight,” Steve whispered, his tone resigned.

Bucky almost turned around to see his expression and try to guess what he was thinking. Did he think Bucky was not going to leave again?...Or did he want Bucky to leave again?

Bucky bit down onto his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He should not care what Steve thought. He hurt Steve. He did not deserve to be with him.

“Here they come,” Romanov gritted.

“Holy shit,” Barton cursed, drawing a second arrow.

“Stark!?” Wilson gasped.

“Not mine! Mine will be here in another five! Can we hold them off?”

“We will,” Bucky stated, aiming at the closest robot and firing.

The remnants of Hydra must have decided to throw it all into this last attack. Their experimental mechanical army was descending upon them with legions of robots.

“Alright, I’m suiting up,” Tony stated, throwing his laptop aside. He flexed his arms and his armor came flying at him. He suited up in less than a minute and then blasted into the air, taking out one of the robots in his takeoff.

Bucky zoned into a state and picked several off before they finally descended on them. The first robot that got close enough, Bucky grabbed with one hand and decimated with a single punch from his metal hand.

Steve jumped to his feet behind him with his shield raised. He emptied out his gun and then fought back with his fists and shield. The others were fighting back too but Bucky only paid attention to his mate.

They bumped into each other’s back, taking the defensive position they always fought in during WWII, without even realizing it. Steve leaned heavily into him as his injury hindered his movements.

“I missed when the only weird thing about Hydra was the red skull guy leading them,” Bucky grumbled as he punched away another robot.

Steve chuckled, “Buck, I fought aliens and there is a Norse God on my team. This era seems to only consist of oddities.”

Bucky smirked despite himself. At least the man he loved was still alive and that was all that mattered.

Steve grunted and was violently pushed into Bucky’s back. Bucky spun with a snarl and kicked away the robot that had hurt Steve. Bucky helped him up and grunted, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve hissed. “It just got a lucky blow at my bad arm.” Steve’s eyes widened and he pulled Bucky into his embrace and covered his back with his shield. A robot hit the shield with a resounding clangor that shook both of the super soldiers to the bone. Yet neither really noticed it as their eyes were locked onto each other and their faces were centimeters apart. In the heat of the battle, both of them had forgotten the prior night but being this close made everything flood back to them. Steve’s eyes flashed with pain and he pulled away from Bucky.

Bucky stopped him and gasped, “I—I didn’t remember about preparing for penetration. I would have never willingly hurt you…”

Steve’s face crumpled and he gasped, “ _Buck_ —.”

“STEVE!” Romanov’s warning cry, struck Bucky out of his funk. They were still in the middle of a war zone. This was not the time or place for apologies. Especially when a robot was barreling straight toward Steve.

Bucky’s arms were still around Steve so he threw them both aside and they landed as a twisted heap on the ground, narrowly avoiding the robot. Robots seemed to falling on them from all directions, almost blocking out the entirety of the daylight.

They couldn’t even get to their feet and were on their knees as they pushed back the onslaught. They were back to back again and Bucky was able to feel Steve struggling with the enemy. He wanted to roar in frustration. Would this ever end?? How much longer could they holdout??

One of the robots got a hold of Steve and he was slammed back into Bucky. Enraged, Bucky spun around and grabbed it, hissing, “ _Don’t you dare touch my husband_!”

He ripped it off Steve and his mate leaned into him with a relieved sigh.

Bucky violently jerked forward as a robot he had been fighting plunged its sharp hands into his back. He had left himself exposed for only a few seconds to help Steve, but a few seconds was all that they had needed. The metal hand skewered through him and came out of his gut. Steve stared down at the bloody metal coming out of him in horror.

Bucky elbowed the robot away with his metal arm, destroying it with the quick jab but as it was ripped from his side blood gushed from the spot where it had imbedded itself into Bucky. He fell over gagging on blood that rushed up from his gullet.

Steve caught him and frantically gasped, “Oh my God. Bucky?? Buck, no, please, no, no, no!!”

Bucky’s entire body jerked and more blood gurgled from his mouth as his internal bleeding became more profuse. It was too much blood. There was too much damage.

“St-Stevie?” He burbled, “Damn, punk, don’t concern yourself w-with me. F-fight, _dammit_.”

Steve bashed away a robot with his shield then turned back to Bucky. He put pressure on Bucky’s wound and gasped, “You are such a jerk! After everything we’ve gone through you can’t just die on me!”

“I-I deserve t-to—,” Bucky gasped.

“NO! You promised me you would be with me till the end of the line and I am nowhere near the end yet! So you can’t get off!” Steve hit away another robot but kept pressure on the wound. Bucky groaned from the movement and stars danced before his eyes. Steve paled at his expression and he hunched over Bucky, demanding, “Bucky??”

Above them, the robots started to explode like fireworks and Bucky grinned and whispered, “Look Stevie, it’s your birthday…”

Steve looked up, his shoulders sagging with relief. Stark’s Calvary of additional Iron Men had finally come.

Bucky’s eyes stayed focused on Steve as the edges of his vision darkened and a small smile graced his lips. He placed his hand over Steve’s and he felt the wedding band he had given him decades prior. He ran a finger over the metal and closed his eyes as he felt peace settling over him. He had saved Steve and the feeling it left him with was so much better than completing any mission.

Exhaustion weighed down on his body and with Steve by his side he was going to have no problem going to sleep. So he did just that…he let the darkness take him and the hand he had placed over Steve’s slipped off, falling to his side curled and empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I got the next chapter out in a week!... Only because I didn't sleep! DX  
> So the last chapter will most likely take longer to come out as I'm gonna need that sleep! But, no worries, I have already written out the first couple of pages and will work on it when I have free time! I can't leave y'all hanging for long after all this emotional turmoil!  
> Thanks for reading! Our soul mates will be back together soon! :)
> 
> Next Time, Ch. 10 Reborn


	10. Reborn

Steve had his face buried in his arms. His wounds had long ago healed themselves but emotionally he was still a wreck. It felt like his tears would permanently be caked onto his face.

He didn’t even sleep because he needed to keep constant vigilance.

He wanted to be there when Bucky woke.

Steve had been utterly convinced that Bucky had died when he turned around and saw his soul mate’s eyes closed. Steve’s first thoughts were about joining him in death because he was 100% positive his mind could not handle losing Bucky _again_.

But Bucky kept breathing and Steve breathed with him, matching his breath to Bucky’s shallow ones. His lungs burned but Steve ignored it in favor of living with Bucky in that moment.

EMTs eventually arrived and Steve rode with Bucky in the ambulance and hadn’t left his side since.

They were sequestered away in a government hospital now. With Bucky healing quickly, he should wake up any day.

Steve had his face buried in the hospital bed where Bucky was propped up. His head was pounding from exhaustion and his eyes were drooping. He let himself close his eyes only for a few moments and Bucky, being the punk he is, decided to wake up when Steve was not paying attention.

Steve felt the gentle touch to the top of his head and he sprang to his feet. Bucky’s dark blue eyes were barely open but they were cognizant. Steve leaned forward and grasped Bucky’s face with both of his hands. He looked him over, making sure he was truly fine and his throat constricted with emotion as he gasped, “I thought I had lost you…”

“Still here,” Bucky murmured, twitching his head out of Steve’s hold. Steve pulled away and noted Bucky was avoiding his eyes. Steve wanted enfold Bucky into an embrace and never let go but he knew it would not tide well with his wayward lover. Bucky’s gaze spanned the room and he asked, “Where are we?”

“A hospital, somewhere in upstate New York,” Steve supplied, sitting back into his chair with a heavy heart. He may have had to pull his hands away from Bucky’s face but he firmly grasped Bucky’s right hand. It was warm in Steve’s clasp but Bucky made no move to return the hold. His fingers remained lax but, by the stiffness in his muscles, Steve knew Bucky was aware of Steve holding him.

“…I love you,” Steve stated and Bucky’s entire body tensed. His eyes froze on the opposite wall and the room seemed to grow quieter.

“You loved the man I once was,” Bucky replied, his expression vacant. It hurt Steve to see him in such a state.

“Yes,” Steve said and he saw a muscle in Bucky’s jaw twitch. Steve continued, “But you are my soul mate, Buck. Till the end of the line, I’m with you and I know I can fall in love with all of you all over again. If you’ll let me?”

“I killed so many,” Bucky whispered, his gaze falling down.

“…I know,” Steve whispered, giving Bucky’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Bucky snapped his hand out of Steve’s and turned his wild eyes on him as he yelled, “No you don’t! I didn’t just kill people who deserved it! I killed innocents! I killed-!” Bucky hunched over and grasped Steve’s hand as he gasped painfully, “I killed Dum-Dum, Gabe, and Howard…”

The breath froze in Steve’s throat. He never thought Hydra could get any worse but knowing they made Bucky kill his own comrades, his friends…

Bucky continued, shaking his head as he said, “You can never love me knowing what I did…”

Steve stood and Bucky looked at him with a guarded expression as if he expected Steve to yell at him.

Instead, Steve embraced him, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face into his long hair. Bucky became still as stone and gasped, “St-Steve?”

“None of it is your fault,” Steve whispered. He slipped onto the bed and leaned into Bucky. “They brainwashed you and whenever you started to remember and fight back, they erased you again and again…” Steve pulled back and cupped Bucky’s wet cheeks. His soul mate was crying and Steve felt tears welling in his own eyes. Bucky’s eyes were wide with shock and fear and they bored into Steve’s gaze manically. Steve lightly brushed the hair out of Bucky’s face and whispered, “But you kept remembering, Buck. You kept fighting…What you did in the meantime does not matter. You had no control over what they forced you to do just as I had no control of getting out of that coma in the Arctic. I was trapped in that frozen wasteland for 70 years just as you were trapped in your own mind… How could I blame you for something for you had no control over? How could I love you any less?”

Bucky shuddered in his arms and he buried his face into Steve’s shoulder. Steve felt Bucky’s tears soak into his shoulder and Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s torso. He rubbed his back and Bucky’s shudders became more powerful.

“I love you, Buck,” Steve whispered, resting his cheek on top of his head.

“I-I love you too,” Bucky cried pathetically into his chest.

The announcement was so shocking and unexpected to Steve that his entire body jerked but then he melted into Bucky as he too began to shake with emotion. He let his tears fall but, for once, his tears weren’t brought about by hurt. He smiled into Bucky’s scalp and held him all the tighter.

“I love you so much, you jerk,” Steve whispered. In the span of a few seconds, emotions overcame him as he remembered all he went through without Bucky and he thought him dead. He repeated with overwhelming emotion, “ _So_ _much_ …”

\---

Bucky woke, never before feeling so refreshed in his life. At his side, Steve continued to snooze, his face buried in Bucky’s long hair on the pillow they shared. Steve had crawled into the hospital bed and fallen asleep in seconds. Since last night, they had gravitated toward each other as they slept and each had the others arms draped over a torso and their legs were impossibly tangled just like when they were children.

Bucky sighed and wondered how he was going to slip away without waking Steve.

He slowly turned his head, pulling his hair out from under Steve’s head. He peered at Steve’s face and was surprised to see him relaxed. He hadn’t seen him look so in the last few weeks…Had Bucky done that?

Steve’s eyes fluttered open when Bucky lifted his arm from Steve’s side. When he saw Bucky was awake, he smiled and whispered, “Hello.”

Bucky frowned in reply. He and Steve exchanged words and he knew Steve would love him no matter what but…but that did not change the fact that Bucky was dangerous. He’d already hurt Steve once before and he could just as easily do it again…

Steve pursed his lips upon Bucky’s frown and he lightly touched his cheek. He whispered, “You’re thinking of running away again. Aren’t you?”

Against his better judgement, Bucky replied truthfully, “Yes.”

“I would follow you,” Steve promised, his fingertips continued to caress his cheek and against his better judgement, Bucky leaned into the touch and felt immediate comfort. He leaned heavier and sighed lightly as Steve cupped his cheek.

“…You shouldn’t,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “My leaving is for your own good.”

“I think it should be my decision to decide what’s good and bad for me,” Steve retorted. He dug his fingers into Bucky’s face and stated, “You are good for me no matter the jeopardy…”

Bucky should not – _he_ _could_ _not_ – let his words sway him in the slightest. He should just push him away and run. Only distance would keep Steve safe and keep Bucky untempted.

But Steve’s touch was so comforting. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so safe. Bucky leaned into his touch and trembled as he stated, “I don’t want to hurt you again…”

“You will,” Steve stated, making Bucky’s heart constrict by his frankness. Steve quickly continued, “And I will hurt you…That’s a relationship. Nobody is perfect and, with our history and us being super soldiers, it just complicates matters…I can handle the accidental hurts that may occur…but I can’t handle not having you by my side, Buck…That hurts too much.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve and inhaled his scent deeply. He missed him so much it hurt. Bucky was grasping for straws as he gasped, “It’ll never work. Your government will want justice…Stark, your teammate, will want revenge for his father…”

“And I will stand by you throughout it,” Steve promised. “Till the end of the line…”

That saying again.

“…What does that mean?” Bucky finally asked.

“Till the end of the line?” Steve asked. He leaned his forehead against Bucky’s and murmured, “Well…I don’t know if you remember, but one day we were saying goodbye to each other at a train station and we knew we wouldn’t see one another for many weeks so we basically promised each other that we would love one another no matter the distance or time. ‘Till the end of the line’ and that particular rail line never ended so our love would be never-ending too…”

“Till the end of the line,” Bucky tested the words out now that he knew their meaning. It was not a quick mission that he had been hoping to accomplish in a short amount of time but was a promise that would span their lifetimes.

Bucky opened his eyes and met Steve’s sky blue gaze.

Even after everything Bucky had done to him, Steve still gazed at him with so much love and trust. Why? Why did Steve still want to be with him? Why did he still trust Bucky?

It stole Bucky’s breath away.

Bucky smirked wetly at him and said, “If you’re willing to stick with me through all of that then I guess I can stick with you for a little while longer…”

Steve smiled with unabashed joy and kissed him.

And just like that, the man, who thought himself a monster, suddenly found himself returned to human flesh with a soul mate tenderly holding onto the token remains of his soul and heart for him. All Bucky need to do was accept the tokens and he wouldn’t have to be a monster anymore.  

So he did just that.

He returned the kiss and cupped Steve’s face. Steve smiled into the kiss and shook beneath him. His soul mate started to cry again so Bucky just pulled him closer and whispered, “I will never leave you again, Steve...”

**\---**

Steve snuck himself and Bucky away that same night.

It was Steve’s idea that they steal away and get reacquainted without having to worry about anyone else. Bucky had to answer for his crimes but, before that, Steve wanted him to have someone he could turn to with the upmost trust and Steve wanted to be that person.

First Bucky had to relearn how to be with Steve…

Steve commandeered some everyday clothing for both of them and a motorcycle. Bucky was still healing and a little woozy from blood loss. He sat on the back of the bike but Steve held onto him tightly with a single hand over the arms crossed over his midsection. They brought nothing with them but the clothes on their back, a few of Bucky’s guns, and Steve’s shield. For the first mile, Bucky sat rigidly on the back of the bike until they hit a bump and Bucky almost fell off.

Steve dug his fingers scolded, “Stay on the bike, jerk.”

Bucky twitched then leaned into Steve, nestling his face in between his shoulder blades, as he chuckled, “Freakin’ punk…”

They rode the bike until it ran out of gas and then they “borrowed” a car parked on the ride of the road.

Bucky leaned back into the passenger seat and stared at Steve as he hotwired the vehicle. They drove in silence for a while and Bucky never looked away from him. To escape the silence, Steve began to talk.

Steve recounted his life without Bucky. He started with the horrible week after he thought he lost him and his decision to live out the rest of his life as Captain America. He went on to waking up in the 21st Century and discovering his soul implant was ticking again. He told him of finding solace with the Avengers and striking up odd but strong friendships with his teammates. He talked about the two years he wrestled with the implant and the mysterious soul mate he was destined to be with. Steve confessed, “I am so glad it was you …”

“Why?” Bucky whispered.

Steve took his eyes off the road for a few seconds to glance at his soul mate. Bucky was staring at him blankly.

“Why?” Steve repeated the question in confusion.

“I would think it would be easier to fall in love with someone new than with me,” Bucky stated sulkily. Steve reached out and grasped Bucky’s hand. It was the metal one and he squeezed it tightly.

“I could never love anyone the way I love you,” Steve promised. He ran his thumb over the back of his hand, tracing out the metal joints. He asked, “Can you feel my touch?”

“Yes,” Bucky replied. “But it’s different, more like a pressure than a sensation. There’s no warmth and I can’t feel the texture of your skin…”

“Would you rather I hold your other hand?” Steve asked curiously.

“…Yes,” Bucky whispered, his voice harsher than usual. Bucky slid his metal hand out Steve’s hold and, after a slight hesitation, placed his flesh hand into Steve’s grip. Steve gave his hand a squeeze and then began to lightly caress the back of his hand with his fingertips. Bucky sighed heavily and ran his thumb over the edge of Steve’s hand too.

Steve smiled and felt happy by the simplicity of holding Bucky’s hand as he drove. It was such a normal couple’s thing and in their era they would have never been able to do it without the fear of being lynched.

“What are you smirkin’ at?” Bucky grumbled.

“You,” Steve retorted with a tease. He quickly added, “Also me…Mostly I’m _smirkin’_ about us really.”

“Why?”

“Because you make me happy without even trying,” Steve replied, flashing him a smile.

“…You’re such a sap,” Bucky mumbled. Steve glanced at him and saw Bucky was blushing. Steve grinned again and Bucky scoffed under his breath.

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” Steve replied airily.

Bucky flinched like Steve had punched him. Steve immediately pulled over and slammed on the brakes.

Steve demanded, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bucky sighed. “I just…I just remembered, you called me that sometimes… ‘Sweetheart.’ I…I liked it. I mean, I still like it.” Bucky sulkily added, “You didn’t need to pull over because of it…”

Steve sighed in relief and smiled sweetly at Bucky. His soul mate was flushing, made self-conscious by Steve’s overreaction. Steve whispered, “I do love you, Sweetheart.”

“Did I have a pet name for you?” Bucky asked embarrassedly.

Steve laughed and replied, “Yes, you called me ‘punk.’”

Bucky frowned and finally met his eyes as he said, “That’s no pet name.”

Steve caressed his cheek and murmured, “It was for us…I called you jerk. We were a funny couple.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and said, “No kiddin.’ We’re still odd.”

“Jerk,” Steve retorted and Bucky smothered a scoff.

Bucky studied Steve for a moment then said, “Get back to driving, punk.”

Steve laughed and droned, “Yes, Sweetheart.”

\---

Bucky made Steve ditch the car in a grocery store parking lot and they walked to a motel three miles down the road. Bucky leaned heavily into Steve as he was still weak from the blood loss.

“And why exactly couldn’t we have driven to the motel?” Steve grumbled.

“It would be like a big red target saying, ‘we’re here!’” Bucky retorted smartly.

“And how are we going to pay for a room?”

Bucky smirked and said, “We aren’t.”

Steve questioned him further but Bucky brushed his questions aside in favor of action.

They staked-out the motel. It was the middle of the night so everyone was asleep but Bucky had to make sure no one was there. Had Hydra or any other agency been there, there would have been a sentry or watch. With Steve grumbling constantly in his ear, Bucky watched the building until he was sure it was safe and then pulled Steve in. Steve stumbled but he shut up and followed Bucky.

Bucky selected an empty room, furthest from the front desk, and shoved his metal shoulder into the door, breaking the lock through the paneling on the other side. He ushered Steve inside and closed the door behind them. He quickly locked the unbroken locks and shoved a chair under the handle. He glanced out the window to make sure they were not seen and then sealed the curtains.

“Is this how you always get your rooms?” Steve questioned.

“I usually use a stolen credit card,” Bucky replied, giving the curtains one last look over before turning to Steve. “But that usually involves breaking into someone’s house and taking their property and I didn’t think you would like that…”

Steve replied with a frown, “You are correct.”

Bucky smirked and said, “Don’t turn on the lights.”

He shuffled over to the bed and sat down with a light groan. His skin had already knitted itself together but it was still tender.

“I don’t need any lights,” Steve murmured. The room was too dark so Bucky could only see Steve’s shadowy outline. He stepped up to Bucky and reached out to him. Bucky caught his hand and drew his hand to his face. He leaned his head heavily into the cup of Steve’s hand and Steve whispered, “Can we share the bed?”

The room held two queen beds and Bucky had sat on the one closest to the door.

Bucky smiled sadly and Steve would have felt it under his hand. To Bucky, nothing was more intimate than accepting Steve back into his life. Anything else was silly. If Bucky trusted Steve to watch his back then he would definitely be able to share a bed with him. Hell, they already had cuddled together on Bucky’s hospital bed. Why would Steve question if they could share a bed to sleep?

Bucky leaned back into the bed and pulled Steve with him. He murmured, “Get in here, punk.”

He saw a flash of white as Steve smiled and he scrambled into the bed with him. They kicked off their shoes and slipped under the covers. Steve hovered on his end of the bed and Bucky could feel the indecision coming off him in waves. Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve had fucked him every way possible and knew what it felt like to be buried inside Bucky and what it felt like to have Bucky inside him. And today he had told Bucky multiple times he loved him and they shared several kisses. Bucky beckoned, “Come here.”

Steve did so without delay and pressed himself into Bucky’s side. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and buried his face into the juncture of his neck with a content sigh.

Bucky carefully placed his arm over Steve’s and gently asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” Steve replied with another content sigh.

Bucky rested his chin on top of Steve’s head and stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to Steve as he breathed evenly. Bucky whispered, “Goodnight.”

Steve snuggled deeper into his hold and murmured, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

Bucky inhaled evenly to control his breath as emotions wracked his entire body.

He did not deserve this man.

Bucky kissed the top of his head and Steve hummed happily.

In all his remembered years, Bucky never before had such a great night’s sleep.

When Bucky woke with the dawn that next morning, the dim light was enough for Bucky to see his husband. They had moved closer to each other as they slept. Their arms were wound around each other and their legs had tangled. Their bodies were parallel and Steve’s face was no longer tucked in his neck but right beneath his jaw. Bucky shifted his face down and traced his nose down Steve’s cheek. Their breath intermingled in a warm mass of air.

It was like something out of a fantasy. Could the whole Winter Soldier period had been a nightmare? Bucky flexed his metal arm and those dreams were dashed.

Bucky sighed heavily and then said, “Wake up, Steve. We got to go.”

Steve groaned and tucked his face closer to Bucky’s. Steve mumbled nonsense under his breath and Bucky smirked. He ran his hands up and down his side a few times before slipping from his hold.

“No,” Steve whispered, grasping at Bucky’s limbs. He blinked sleepily at Bucky and whispered, “Just a little longer…”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat and he lightly ran his fingertips across Steve’s forehead where his hair once was long enough to grow. It went against his better judgement but he slipped back into the bed and gathered Steve’s warm limbs around him. He tucked his face into Steve’s and the side of his nose pressed into the side of Steve’s.

Steve smiled and whispered, “You could never say no to me in the mornings, ever since we were kids. You spoiled me.”

Bucky’s heart squeezed painfully and he whispered, “I don’t remember.”

Steve pursed his lips and lightly grasped the side of his face. He murmured, “It was also how we started to make love. I told you to stay in bed because I was cold…”

Bucky shivered as his body recollected cold fingers on his cock. He pulled sharply away from Steve and hastily repeated, “I don’t remember.”

He slipped away from Steve and locked himself in the bathroom. He turned on the shower to let Steve think he was getting ready but, in reality, he sat on the toilet and hyperventilated.

He loved Steve but he could not sleep with him. For a moment, he feared they may have started the motions so he had to flee. The last time they had sex, Bucky had hurt Steve and almost lost control. He could have killed him and he would _never_ risk his life again.

They kept moving and “borrowing” vehicles. He was able to talk Steve into allowing him to “borrow” some credit cards so they could stay in rooms without worry of discovery.

The whole reason they were running was so they could relearn who each other were. Steve talked the most, going over the changes in his life and in his beliefs. Bucky listened to it all but he knew even if Steve admitted to worshipping lettuce he would still love him. As it was, they had changed similarly. They were tougher and less naïve.

Whether or not they clicked was never the problem.

Bucky was the problem. He could still hurt Steve.

Steve was able to draw Bucky out and get him to talk to him. At first, Bucky only spoke about their lives before the war and what he remembered. They reminisced about their past and Steve helped him remember what he could not.

They crossed the country and Steve had always wanted see the National Sites and Parks so they stopped at each one they came across. It was at Bryce Canyon in Utah when Bucky finally opened up to Steve about his time as the Winter Soldier.

The entire landscape was a coral red rock and the sunset was like blood, bleeding out across the horizon. It was too much red for Bucky. He hid his face in Steve’s shoulder and begged him to take them back to their room.

Bucky wordlessly fell into the bed and buried himself underneath the blankets. Steve knew by now all he could do for Bucky was be there for him and not ask questions so he slipped into the bed with him and collected Bucky into his arms.

Bucky never felt safer than in his hold.

He collected his courage and told him the red reminded him of the blood.

That was all he was going to say but…he kept talking. He told Steve about the different blood stains he had caused over the years. Some kills were quick and immediate, others took longer and were bloodier…

Steve listened to it all and never pulled away from him, even when he talked about killing their friends.

Bucky talked until dawn the next day, making his voice hoarse by the end of it. It made him feel raw like he had cut all secrets away with a serrated knife but he felt lighter because of it too. The secrets were loose and no longer weighing him down.

And better yet, Steve still looked at him with eyes filled with utter devotion.

Bucky didn’t deserve him but…he’ll keep him all the same.

And still, on they moved. Neither of them knew if Steve’s teammates or a government agency were searching for them so they remained vigilant, just in case.

In all the weeks they were moving, they shared everything with each other and continued to kiss and hold each other. But Bucky refused to make love, out of fear of hurting Steve again.

“You remember how to do it now,” Steve argued sulkily. It was early morning and they’d both woke aroused. Steve pressed his erection into Bucky and started to kiss him. Bucky went ridged and turned away from Steve without returning any affection. Steve would not let go of him and pressed himself into Bucky’s back. He continued, “And I can top. You can let me handle everything until you’re confident enough to do it again.”

Bucky pulled himself out of his arms and growled, “No.”

He lay on the edge of the bed, his fingers digging into the mattress to keep them away from Steve.

“I want to be with you,” Steve stated, touching the center of his back with just the tips of his fingertips.

“And I want to protect you,” Bucky gasped. His body shuddered under Steve’s touch.

“…You’re only hurting both of us, Buck,” Steve whispered. “Please…give us another chance. I’m not the sickly little boy you grew up with. I can take care of myself and heal from nearly everything. Please, let’s try again.”

Bucky turned to him and pleaded, “And if I kill you? How will I live with that? I still have the order to kill Captain America programed in me. If I lose control, even for an instant, I might try to complete the mission.”

With a pinched brow, Steve whispered, “…You are my soul mate, Buck. I loved you when everyone else said it was a sin and that we were going to go to hell. I married you even though it was against the law. I could barely function when I thought you were dead but I kept living because I knew you would want me to. I’m breaking the law again just to be here with you… I would risk so much to be with you. Can’t you see I’m still willing to risk more?” Steve pressed his head into Bucky’s shoulder and whispered, “I just want to be with the man I love…”

Lust and fear created an odd adrenaline rush in Bucky’s system. His cock throbbed and his stomach clenched unpleasantly. Bucky whispered, “We’ll try it just this once but we have to go slow and if either of us say stop we do so immediately, okay?”

Steve’s head snapped up and he grinned joyfully at Bucky. He placed his hands on Bucky’s chest and gasped, “Really??”

“Yes,” Bucky grumbled, frowning at Steve.

Steve’s grin only grew wider and he grasped Bucky’s head and pulled it down to meet Steve’s kiss. Steve pressed his body into Bucky and Bucky wound his arms around the blond to draw him closer.

They went slow just like Bucky wanted and simply kissed for a long time, simply making love with their mouths. Their tongues thrust into each other’s mouths, mimicking sex and the slow pace Bucky wanted. As they moved against each other, a button was undone, an article of clothing was loosened, and eventually they shed each other of their outer layers.

Steve took his time categorizing Bucky’s scars. He did things like rub his face against the patchy burns on his chest, run his tongue over the parallel lashes on his back, and kiss the bullet wounds that cratered his abdomen. Sometimes he’d pause to ask Bucky if what he was doing as alright and Bucky nodded every time and wordlessly encouraged him on.

Steve’s body was just as he remembered it. No new scars graced his golden skin but Bucky retraced it all the same. He was going to make himself know Steve as well as his own body and not chance ever forgetting him ever again.

Once their clothing was off, however, it took much longer to remove their underwear. Steve made no move to remove Bucky’s briefs but he did rub his clothed erection into Bucky every chance he got. Bucky finally got so frustrated that he shoved Steve off him with a growl then pounced on the white briefs his husband wore and pulled them off before Steve could even lift his hips. He then ripped off his boxer briefs and pressed his erection to Steve’s. Steve rut into him with a breathy moan.

“That what you wanted, Stevie?” Bucky asked breathlessly.

“Yesss,” Steve groaned.

Steve reached between them and grasped both of their cocks, rubbing them together. Bucky hissed sharply and almost bit Steve on the shoulder. Steve’s hand shot away and Bucky groaned from the cold air that hit him.

“Too fast?” Steve gasped into his flesh.

“N-No,” he garbled, throwing back his head to get some air.

Steve rubbed his face into Bucky’s jaw and asked, “Can I continue?”

Bucky clutched his head. He was dizzy with pleasure but no bad moods threatened to overcome him. He wanted this. He wanted Steve.

Bucky nodded Steve on and stretched his arms over his head to grasped the metal bars of the headboard. Steve nodded and drew his kisses downward, their eyes were locked as made his way down Bucky’s body.

He paused at Bucky’s abdomen and Steve pressed an additional kiss into a large scar between his hipbone and bellybutton. Steve asked, “Can I get the lube?”

Bucky shuddered. This was it. This was his last chance.

Bucky gulped and then nodded his consent, unable to trust his own voice. Steve’s eyes darkened and he kissed a cratered scar one last time before slipping from the bed.

They did not have much but one of the first things Steve purchased was lube. He had been carrying it on him for weeks. Bucky and Steve never talked about it until now but Bucky knew he had it. Bucky hated it at first as it reminded him of the time he had hurt Steve but now he could not wait to feel it.

Steve quickly returned to the bed and pressed his body against Bucky’s as he hurriedly pressed a kiss into his lips.

Steve was smiling, his joy pouring from almost every pore in his body and any doubts Bucky may have had disappeared. Bucky ran his hand through Steve’s hair and whispered, “I’m ready.”

Steve smiled sweetly at Bucky and kissed him chastely one last time before dropping down his body. Bucky inhaled slowly as he readied himself and adjusted his hold on the bars. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breath evenly even as his heartrate skyrocketed.

He twitched when he heard Steve open the lube and then held his breath as he waited for Steve’s next move.

Steve’s touch was tentative and his slick finger brushed into the crease of Bucky’s ass. Bucky sucked in a sharp breath and jerked his hips up to follow Steve’s hand but it disappeared, leaving Bucky trembling for more.

His eyes were still closed so he could not see what Steve was doing and he waited in breathless anticipation for his next move.

Steve ran his tongue along the shaft of Bucky’s cock and a startled groan was strangled Bucky’s throat from his shock. In that moment of surprise, Steve pressed a finger inside Bucky.

Bucky arched up into Steve’s mouth, ripped the bars tighter, and gasped, “ _Steve_.”

Steve sucked on the base of his cock then gasped, “You feel _so_ good, sweetheart. I can’t wait to be inside you.”

Bucky moaned in agreement and Steve thrust another finger inside him.

Steve took his cock into his mouth and sucked him off in tandem with the fingers he pushed into him. A third finger was added and Steve was able to touch his prostate. The first brush to it and Bucky’s mind blanked with absolute bliss.

Lust filled him one moment and fear overrode it in seconds. It was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He’d lost control. Bucky gasped, “Wait!”

Steve froze, his fingers still inside Bucky and his mouth just covering the head of his cock. Steve slowly slid his mouth off Bucky and his slicked penis bounced back onto his taunt stomach.

Gasping for breath, Bucky repeated, “Wait…”

Bucky waited, waiting for a negative reaction, waiting for the need to hurt Steve.

His cock throbbed and his ass ached, wanting more…and nothing more than just more of Steve. Bucky almost laughed for joy. They could do this. He didn’t have to hurt Steve.

“I’m ready,” Bucky whispered. “Get inside me.”

“Buck..?” Steve questioned uncertainly.

Bucky released the bars and repeated, “I’m ready.”

Steve nodded and withdrew his fingers from his ass. Bucky lifted his hips and felt Steve position himself. Bucky placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders and gently kneaded the flesh. Bucky gasped as Steve gradually pushed himself inside him.

Steve positioned himself above Bucky as Bucky adjusted to his length. Bucky wrapped his arms around his soul mate’s shoulders. Steve pressed kisses around his forehead until Bucky tipped back his head and stole his lips. As they kissed, Steve began to move and Bucky moved his hips with Steve’s.

Steve moved slowly, dragging his penis against Bucky’s prostate with an absolutely magnificent torturous capability. They were both gasping like they had been running miles but moved as they were sluggishly pushing at mud. Bucky held Steve tightly, afraid to let him go, and Steve kissed him reassuringly.

When Steve was about to come, Bucky gasped into his mouth, “Love y-you.”

Bucky grinned as Steve came upon his declaration and he collapsed on Bucky’s chest, gasping for breath. Bucky covered his mouth to smother his chuckles but he could not stop himself from shaking. Steve stiffened and his head snapped up with a concerned expression on his face.

All Steve saw was Bucky covering the lower half of his face with his brows pinched and the rest of his body shaking. Steve paled immediately assuming the worst.

“Bucky?” Steve squeaked.

A snort burst out from between Bucky’s fingers and Steve’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. A cautious smile twitched at Steve’s lips and he leaned over Bucky, asking, “A-Are you laughing?”

Steve tugged at his hand and Bucky gave up. He let go of his mouth and let his laughter overcome him. He shook with it and clutched his stomach as he struggled to breathe.

Steve’s eyes danced as he smiled down at him. As Bucky was catching his breath, Steve asked, “What is _so_ funny?”

“Your face,” Bucky chuckled. “When you came after I told you I loved you.”

Steve blushed and murmured, “That isn’t why I came.”

“Looked like it from right here,” Bucky replied smartly.

“You are such a jerk,” Steve growled, pouncing on him. Bucky laughed as they rolled around on the mattress kissing and playfully rutting each other. Bucky pinned Steve and pressed his erection into him. Steve stilled and lust darkened the mirth in his gaze.

“You,” Bucky drawled, rubbing himself into Steve. “Are such a _punk_ for leaving me like this.”

“What are you going to do about it?” Steve challenged with a haughty smirk.

Bucky ran his hands down Steve’s sides and took on a thoughtful but teasing expression as he pretended to think over his options. Steve impatiently rubbed his half hard length into him. His recovery time was amazing and Bucky knew he had the serum to thank for that. Would it work out that way for him too?

However, as he playfully mused, he genuinely thought over his options. The future was laid out for him now. No longer will he operate on the whim of a master or live solely for a mission. He had his freedom but, more importantly, he had Steve.

“What am I going to do..?” Bucky wondered aloud.

“I am open for suggestions,” Steve murmured, gripping and kneading his thighs suggestively.

Bucky put his hands over Steve’s and stated, “I think I shall stay with you until the end of the line.”

Steve froze beneath him and shock poured out of his features.

Bucky grinned and continued, “Firstly, I’d like us to get remarried, make it official with the state and I’m gonna need a new ring cuz mine is somewhere with the remains of my left arm.”

Steve gulped and his fingers dug into Bucky’s thighs. He gasped, “Buck—.”

“And—,” Bucky said, interrupting him. “Then I’m gonna need you by my side cuz a lot of people are gonna want justice…Stark included. But once we settle all that, if I’m still alive and not in jail, I’d like to settle down with you somewhere nice. And I’m gonna be that lazy, good-for-nothing husband I promised to be when we first married. You can go off saving the world but I think I’m gonna stay at home with my feet propped up and start watching soap operas.”

Steve was grinning widely and his eyes were glinting with tears. He whispered huskily, “You’d never let me go alone. I’m nothing without my partner. The ole’ Rogers- Barnes One-Two punch, remember?”

Bucky’s heart squeezed with a surge of happiness and he whispered, “Yes, yes I remember that.”

“About time you remember something, jerk,” Steve gasped, his happy tears running down the side of his face now.

Bucky leaned down and kissed his husband deeply. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s head and pressed his body into him, trying to touch as much of him as he could.

“I love you, Stevie,” Bucky gasped, when they broke for breath.

“Till the end of the line,” Steve added.

Bucky smirked and nuzzled his nose into Steve’s and agreed, “Till the end of the line.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the boys return to New York, deal with some stupid drama, Bucky is acquitted of all charges, and they live out the rest of their lives happily and stupidly in love calling each other jerk and punk and loving every minute of it. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left kudos, commented, bookmarked, and read! This story was an emotional roller coaster but it is finally completed! :)


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